


Dragons And Demons

by CrazyScribbles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:42:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21913876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyScribbles/pseuds/CrazyScribbles
Summary: Grief always surrounded him and sadness made a home in him. Neither gold nor the golden girl, neither the sun nor the sun-kissed girl could give him what he needed. But what could a Prince need when the whole Seven Kingdoms were his to take? A prophecy to fulfill, a promise his ancestors made were his reasons, but she was the only maid who could make their Prince smile.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Original Female Character(s), Rhaegar Targaryen/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 142





	1. Twisting Tales

Ned smiled wide like a child, when the cold breeze brushed his skin and all the memories of his boyhood swarmed to swell his heart with joy, as he rode alongside with some of his men, towards the castle gates of Winterfell. The happiness in coming back home at the right time, made him to force all of his companions also to ride faster every single day, ever since they started from the Vale. The only one to suffer through trauma during this journey was his chestnut mare, which was refusing to take another foot to carry him, now that they were close to home, merely feet away to meet his family.

He hastily climbed down and walked towards the stable, begging the horse to move as he pulled the reins. But sensing his excitement and urgency, the horse was taking revenge by adamantly not taking another step and he had no other choice than to give it a rest, even though his heart was jumping like a fish out of a pond, in search of air.

_"Forgot the way to home, stranger?"_

A perky little voice boomed from behind and he turned to find Lyanna in the saddle of her horse next to Benjen. His face brightened up to find them both and with a vast smile, he replied, "It has been a long time, my lady. Can you help in guiding this poor boy to Lord Stark?"

Lya laughed aloud and started revolving around his horse in a circle throwing mischievous glances towards Benjen. "I will help you, but what do I get in return?" She questioned.

"Anything that you desire, my lady." He bowed mockingly and Benjen started to throw a fit of laughter in response. They both had grown up, yet he could see no drastic change in their appearances to be unrecognizable. Lya looked more like his late lady mother, Lyarra Stark, yet she had grown only two inches taller than the last time he had seen her. _She was still just a child_ _of twelve years_. At least Lya had grown distinguishably, compared to Benjen who hadn't changed much in both height and weight. Ned was explicitly happy to find everything the same way it was, like the last time he saw them, similar to the gray stones of Winterfell which could never be changed.

" _Careful Ned!_ She will make you do regrettable and irreversible decisions, if you give her a _promise_. Last time, she made me put tonnes of ice cubes in Aly's bath, when I got caught in her trade." Benjen warned warmly.

Ned knitted his brows and glared at Lya which made her to stop revolving in her horse. The sharp glance was enough for his little sister to cower and chew her lips when she defiantly raised her hands in the air. "It was a waste of effort, Ned. Aly didn't get affected at all. _Truly..._ You must trust me. She is the witch, that Nan tells in her stories." Lya sincerely replied and climbed down to give a warm hug and they both walked along with him, when Ned pulled the reins of his tired mare towards the stable.

Ned had a very hard time in understanding the relationship between both of his sisters. They both always barked at each other like mad dogs, yet at night, they would curl themselves in a bundle and go to sleep on the same bed. Even Brandon would scratch his head at the way the wolf maidens of Winterfell would throw fit against each other in the daylight but completely change their behaviour come night.

"I hoped to find our sister at the castle gates." Ned recounted sadly, wondering about Alarra's absence at the gates. She used to always wait to welcome him, no matter how much time it might take.

"It has been two years, since you last saw her, Ned. She has changed a lot." Lya responded with a pout mouth and a long face while steering her gaze to the side. "You can see for yourself. Look there."

Ned turned to his left and found a girl who was almost as tall as him, standing amongst three men of Winterfell. He couldn't believe it was his sister. The last time, he saw her — she was just a little thing, with messy brown hair that lacked any decoration. Now, Aly's waist long brown locks were dangling on her shoulder in a twisted beautiful pattern. But it was the crown of her head, that attracted his attention. She had braided that portion of her bright golden strands, which sat at the top of her head, looking like the most opulent crown that even the Queens might never possess. His father always used to admire and call it as the old God's blessing. As a child, she used to cut that part of hair, calling it to be ghastly and small strands of those golden hair would sprout out in a very eerie manner but now he could see she had embraced it and made it eye-catching.

He almost felt low while looking at Allara, even though he had no idea of why he was feeling that way. She had grown up almost to be a woman, a stunning one at that and he had never been there for her. Ben and Lya, hadn't changed drastically as Aly. Now, to find Aly grow up to be a completely different woman, a sadness crawled in his heart, and he wore his long Stark face, while looking down at the ground wondering if he was an outcast of the pack or _worse_ , if his own sister had forgotten him.

_"Ned..."_

He looked up towards the direction of the sound and found her running towards him gleefully, with her long skirt gathered around her fist. A natural smile creeped into his lips, when she threw her arms around him and dashed on him painfully for a hug, making him stumble in his own stance.

"Good Gods... You have changed, a lot." She murmured near his ears and parted with a wide smile. Her mismatched eyes glowed in happiness. That bought him to chuckle aloud when he steadied her and took his time to observe her from head to toe.

"Really, sister? Are you the one to accuse me of being a changed person?" He harmlessly twisted his stare, but received a sharp sting on his shoulder, when she pinched in response.

" _Hey,_ That's my brother. You can do whatever you want with Brandon — _your brother_. Don't you dare touch, Ned." Lya hissed and stood between them both, pushing Aly out of the way. Ned expected Aly to shove Lya to dirt, just like how he used to find them two years ago when they would roll in mud, like swines in dirt, for incomprehensible arguments. But always Lya used to win, even though she was younger to Aly by two years. Now, he was taken aback when Aly crossed her hands across her chest and glared at Lya. That poise reminded Ned of their mother, who would chastise him in a sweet voice when he used to get caught doing something silly.

" _I see_ , sweet sister. But isn't Ben, yours to claim, as you said the last time? In which case, Ned should be shared between us. Or are you disregarding Ben to dirt?" Aly questioned and gave pitied glances towards Ben who was still ahorse. His brother who didn't quite catch the game of his sister's ploy, became suddenly sullen and peeked at Lya with a sad face. "Are you abandoning me, Lya? I thought you want me in your pack." Ben asked.

"I do..." Lya screamed in panic. " _I still do..._ You are the only one who will play with _sword-_ " Lya bit her tongue when she slipped the truth that she had been hiding cleverly from her sister and turned red in getting caught.

" _Wow, Lya..._ You will definitely be a warrior like Rhoyner Queen Nymeria, one day. _No doubts._ Now that I know your secret, if you don't want me to inform it to father, you will quietly gather yourself and wear the long dress that has been set up for you, in your chamber." Aly fired at Lya.

With no other options to defend herself, Lya huffed and flared in response, as she mumbled curses silently and walked towards her chamber. Ben seemed too occupied in his own world and he followed his sister, letting the stableboys take care of their horses. Finally, Aly glanced up at Ned and gave a wide delighting smile. She looped her arms into his and took him in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Since when did you learn to handle her?" Ned asked in surprise of the way she had done it, which didn't involve any hands at all. "It was quite harsh, sister. You know how much she loves to train."

"Oh, don't fuss over it, Ned. I know what they both are up to. Now and then, I use those informations to my advantage. You see... Being with three brothers and a sister who is equal to three boys, has taught me some tricks under my sleeves." Aly responded.

Ned chuckled and untangled his arm to wrap it around her shoulder. "No wonder Father keeps you by his side."

He had often wondered why his father was more determined, in keeping Aly by his side, ever since they were children. Brandon and Lyanna, had a reputation for making a big mess out of everything. It was because of the wolf blood, that made them do something without thinking through the consequences. Although, he had always looked up to Brandon, Ned knew he himself possessed none of the wolf blood in him. But Aly was neither like Ned nor like Lya.

She was calm and very observant but she had the tenacity to speak her mind out... _unless_ the matter came it of their father, in which case she would do exactly what father would ask of her, with no questions. Brandon could never stand in court and listen to all the petitions of the small folks, merchants and the peasants, even for one day. But Aly had always stood by their father's side, next to the throne of Kings of Winter, from morning to evening, hearing to the pleas and complaints of the small-folks, while father would pass the judgement. She had been doing this ever since she was ten years old, occasionally helping father with required parchments and informations, like a steward for a lord. At that age, all Ned wanted to do was to run and fight in the courtyard. Even attending lessons with the Maester at the Vale was so boring.

Sometimes Ned had wondered if their father was actually punishing her but now he could see that he was actually teaching her to be smart enough to fix the problems politically right, without any fight. The girl who would push her sister to ground in mud only to end up getting beaten up by her younger sister was long gone, replaced by a beautiful, classy young woman, with a thirst in playing ploys to get what she wanted. He couldn't possibly find out, how in the Seven hells had she managed to make Lyanna wear a proper lady's dress.

"I have been waiting for you, since four days." Aly's voice bought him back to the presence. "You know how much you made me worry? How was your journey from the Vale? There are a lot of disturbing news every day about the mountain clans of the Vale causing so much trouble to the travellers. It worried me and Father to bones, brother, especially that you were late." Aly stacked her pile of questions without taking a break.

"Four days?" Ned exclaimed. "I was supposed to come today. Wasn't I?"

She tilted her head and shook her head. " _No._ In your last letter, you clearly mentioned that you will come in a fortnight and it has been four days, since the fortnight had passed."

"Are you sure, sister? Because I clearly remember -"

_"Stop it, brother."_ Ned turned to find Brandon come with open arms and he instantly made a warm embrace to the man that he had always looked up to. "Welcome home." Brandon parted with a pat on his shoulder and drove his eyes towards Aly with a tug on his lips. "Don't even start to argue with this one. You are eventually going to lose. And even worse, you will lose something that you hold dear."

Ned laughed and observed Aly, who crossed her arms across her chest, staring at Brandon pointedly. "What did you lose, Brandon? _Oh, sorry..._ Did I form the question wrong? What did you lose, yesterday, when you spilled the truth of beating up the Glover boy, while you were drowning in ale like a swine in a sty? Father must hear of the atrocities you are committing."

His brother shook his head and reached for her wrist, but she took off, letting Brandon chase her around. Ned couldn't stop the smile that was pasted on his face, when Brandon — who was strong and tall like a giant, was struggling to catch their little sister, who wouldn't be able to give any worthy fight to anyone around. _Gods..._ He had missed all of this in Vale. Even with Robert around, who he had soon realized to be an exact replication of Brandon, he missed these silly sibling quarrels up there in the tall mountain where cold froze his balls off, even more than the North itself. This time he had planned to stay for two moons, before riding to Vale, where his fostering had almost got over. He was a man and he could make his own choices and his choices always directed him towards Winterfell, as nothing could ever come closer to his heart, like his siblings and the North.

"Oh... Brandon. _Please..._ I will give you, your precious ugly sword back." Aly shouted when Brandon caught her hand and easily lifted her to sit atop his shoulder. "I am scared, you imbecile. Don't drop me..." Aly pleaded clinging to Brandon's long hair.

"Promise me, you won't play any more games with me." Brandon asked but earned only a scoff as a response which made him to tickle her sides, till she bursted out thunder of laughs which echoed all around the castle, letting even the guards who passed by to catch over that infectious smile. Ned felt his head dizzy as he drowned in that moment, when warm fingers curled on his shoulder and he turned around to find his father.

"How was the journey?" Lord Rickard Stark asked in his Lord's tone that he often chose to wear upon himself.

"It was smooth, Father." Ned replied, and they both turned their attention towards Brandon and Allara. But unlike Ned's own smiling face, his father had suited himself with a long one, even when his steely gray eyes hadn't parted an inch away from their siblings' antics. His father had always been strict in their upbringings and the man's smile was long gone, after their mother had passed away. Even with Allara, who everyone assumed to be his favourite child, he spoke less about feelings and emotions, choosing to only assign duties and responsibilities.

"Your sister has specially arranged for the cook to prepare your favourite fish stew, importing it all the way from White Harbour. Come, let us speak more about your stay in the Vale, while you break your fast, when it remains hot." Father guided him towards the Great Hall, where the servants were arranging all of his favourite sea foods. Ned had to nod and follow him, while rehearsing all the details he felt worth of sharing with his father about the Vale. The questions would be mostly about his foster-father Jon Arryn and his health or Elbert Arryn, the heir of Vale. Sometimes it would be also about Robert and their friendship. Although Ned had made a home for himself in the Vale, there was a missing part of his heart that always belonged to the North and he blamed all of that on his father.

When he was forcibly sent to the Eyrie at the age of eight, he practically begged Brandon to take him to the Dustins. At least, in that way, Ned could have been close to home and frequently visited them all whenever needed like Brandon had been. Like Brandon he could have bonded more with his siblings. Brandon had Aly and Benjen had Lya. He was the lone wolf of the pack.

Aly and Brandon shared an unimaginable bonding, that Ned could never have with either one of them, even though Brandon was his hero. When Mother had passed away, Lyanna and Benjen were too young to understand what was happening, while Aly asked a thousand questions and always roamed around Father's leg, begging for answers. Ned couldn't remember much of his Father's presence then, as his father drowned in sorrow and ale in the initial part of that year. It was Brandon who had taken upon himself to comfort his crying sister, even at that young age and answered all her silly questions, which might have been the reason why they were quite tight.

Not that any of that mattered now, especially when his eyes landed on ten different sea food meals prepared of lobsters, crabs, salt fish, eels, crispy finger fish — his most favourites were spread across the table. His eyes almost felt wet for his sister's love, but he had to be a man now, and he could not shed tears in front of his father, so he collected himself and filled up his plate with pursed lips.

"She is just like Mother." He commented to himself but his father nodded his head warily, as Ned slurped on his stew.

" _Aye, that she is..._ But everything good in the form of a woman would one day leave, letting us — the men to suffer."

Ned stopped picking his food, and stared at his father for a longer time, trying to decode that unrecognizable language his father spoke. Was he referring about the death of his mother? Or was he speaking about Aly? Why would Aly leave us to suffer? _Unless... She would get betrothed to someone._ He learned she flowered a year ago, in one of her letters. Of course, his father had to send her away, now that he was a free man to come home. Ned felt his appetite gone hearing that news, and he even forgot to ask who she was getting matched for.

* * *

Rhaegar sat amidst the ruins, where the ceremony had taken place. It must have been a Great Hall as he could still see the faded paintings of his ancestors riding dragons, on the broken ceilings. This was the place, where his beloved family members burned alive, in an attempt to bring dragons to life. And he was drawn to come to this place, over and over, even if it hurt him so much because it reminded him of his own family's betrayal towards him.

He isolated himself to be away from wrong people, especially the ones that filled his father's counsel and mostly indulged in the company of books, because books never betrayed or painted false words to praise glory. Books never lied to him and Rhaegar loved truth, like his Grand Uncle Aemon Targaryen. Had he been given a choice, he would have preferred to join the Night's Watch, with his Grand Uncle, instead of being the heir to the King.

But he knew the prophecy of dark times, and as all men, he should do his duty and the Gods had chosen him to be the Prince that was Promised. He always had a keen interest in riddles and puzzles, even as a child. But the one with the arrival of the dark times was not a pass-time riddle to play with. The prophecy that led to their parent's marriage, to give birth to him. He figured out the answer of the riddle, and even his Grand Uncle, the wisest member of his family — his closest confidante next to his mother, acknowledged of it.

So, he set his heart and soul in training with a sword. Yet, sword was not the weapon he yearned to wield. The only weapon that fascinated him was his harp.

Rhaegar let his fingers brush the strands of his silver harp and closed his eyes to imagine the pain, his family would have endured in the exact same place, he was sitting. Did they scream calling for the Gods? Did their body blister in fire? Should he be relieved that it was not him who caught in the fire? Perhaps, he was never supposed to be alive. Had he died in their stead, the dragons would have been born and his whole family would have been there. He was the result of a cursed sorcery.

His own breath choked in his lungs, when truth dawned on his shoulders about the nature of his birth and the grandest treachery that his forefathers had committed. He regretted for the first time of reading the prophecies. A fire inside of him burned to rouse his temper, that was in need of tending, and when the surrounding air changed its scent, he unsheathed his long sword and spun around to point it exactly at the intruder's throat, making drops of blood to roll down.

His nerves calmed down, when he met the intruder's purple orbs, that shone, for the sunlight. The dornish man gave a chuckle while easily brushing his long sword away.

"A Kingsguard must be more alert." Rhaegar commented.

"And a man with a sword must never delay cutting down the enemy." Arthur responded casually.

Rhaegar shook his head warily and sheathed his sword. If only killing was as easy as Arthur spoke, he would have killed a thousand criminals who were infesting the city. He picked his harp and placed it securely inside the good parts of the castle. "Since when have I asked you to guard me, in Summerhall?"

Rhaegar preferred to be alone and found solace in the castle ruins, rather than get accompanied. Not even his Queen Mother could persuade him to go with a guard. Even when his own mother could not understand the reason behind it, Arthur had never questioned. His friend would simply follow. Not that he had a choice, being a Kingsguard with oaths sworn to his family, But Arthur was more than a friend to Rhaegar, like a brother that he never had. Growing up alone, for the most part of his childhood, Rhaegar became so close with his sworn sword, who was patient enough to teach him the arts of swinging a sword. When Rhaegar found silence as the response, he turned around to find his friend move awkwardly without any answer.

"I have come on King's order, my Prince." Arthur answered.

Rhaegar couldn't stop clenching his jaw in anger, at the mere mention of his father. If there was one more darkness, the Kingdom required to be removed, it would be his father. For all the madness, and atrocities his father was committing, in the position of King, he believed that there would be revolt or a rebellion soon to happen in the corners of the Kingdom. Rhaegar had been trying to stop his father's paranoia, but the King's small council had been spilling poison to drift both of their relationship to become sour and unmendable. He didn't want it to be mended either. The King had gone a long way to right his wrong and he would not say his father's doubts were baseless. Rhaegar was hoping to find a way to take back the throne from the Mad King, ever since he found bruises on his mother's face, the last time.

"What does he want from me, this time?" Rhaegar asked in agitation, as he walked towards the castle gates, where his horse was grazing the grass. The last time, when his father summoned him, he had gathered the whole court and accused him of treason and treachery. He wondered what scene his father was going to display to the crowd.

"Ah... _That- I-_..." Arthur struggled with his words and Rhaegar lazed upon his friend's face with dagger throwing sharp eyes to startle him. "He has arranged a match for you." For a moment, Rhaegar worried if his father was summoning to execute him or better... _burn him_. The answer gave a relief to his friend's surprise.

"Don't scrutinize me, with your eyes. Unlike you, I haven't been with so many women." Rhaegar paused when he felt his cheeks burn at the mere mention about women. He was never good in even holding a long conversation with them, let alone to think about being intimate with one. So, he would generally sing a song and escape from their gazes, even when he knew many liked his presence. But it didn't mean he never wanted to marry. He wanted to share his life with someone, who could see him to be more than just a Prince and an heir to the throne. Perhaps, one day he could to bring her here to this ruined castle and tell the tale of his birth. He had been so alone, for so long, and a woman's presence around him would might give him hope. "It's about time, to go for a ride with a lady, in my horse."

Rhaegar commented casually and mounted his black destrier while feeling his friend's eyes burning his back. There was a sudden change of disappointment that started spreading on his friend's sun kissed face, and Rhaegar curiously looked at him for an answer. "Nothing important to put your mind to, your Grace." Arthur lingered carefully with his reply.

"No, you are clearly hiding something. Spill it out. It is your Prince's order." He urged knowing Arthur would do anything, if he simply even asked.

"Your betrothed will not be able to ride in horses with you." Arthur whispered in hesitation.

"Why not? Is she a creature of the sea?" Rhaegar formed a poor jape, that ended in no laughter.

"No... She is from my soil. She is a very beautiful woman but not a rider, I suppose. She is quite fragile."

"Did my father choose your sister?" Rhaegar questioned in surprise. "Does your sister not know to ride?"

Arthur slowly trotted his horse, with amused lips. "You are not lucky enough to get my sister's hand, my Prince." He answered proudly and gave a mocking glance like an over-protective brother. Rhaegar never understood a brother-sister relationship, even though Arthur would mention about his sister — Lady Ashara quite often, his friend was reluctant to even consider himself — the crown Prince, as a possible match for his sister. He doubted if the Lady Ashara would ever get married at all.

"Well, _'unluck'_ is my other name. You seem to have a lot of knowledge about my betrothed. Why don't you spell out her name?"

"It's the Princess of Dorne, Elia Nymeros Martell, your Grace." Arthur replied.

Rhaegar did not know of the lady, although his mother would have probably mentioned about her, while casually remarking about the eligible ladies of different houses. Those informations would serve no use to him as his father would pick the lady exact opposite of the one that he would propose. "Tell me more about her. I would like to know her likes and dislikes, so I can do anything to make her be happy with me." Rhaegar asked thinking about the failure in his parent's marriage — especially his father's treatment towards his mother. All the accusations towards his mother for losing her children whilst he whored his way. His blood boiled to even think about those times.

"She is very sweet and kind. You will definitely like her, Rhaegar. _Only..._ She needs more care." His friend ended without further decoration to his words. Rhaegar didn't want to pursue further on the topic. He would eventually get to know about her and probably would fall in love with her, one day. Now, he had to get ready to face his mad father, who would have gathered for a meeting to insult him again.


	2. Words And Swords

Allara observed Maester Walys whispering secrets into her father's ears, for almost three hours now. Their language was suspicious as usual, with coded words and long buried thoughts making Lord Rickard's stern gaze to be firmly set upon the hearth in his solar. There was a subtle difference in her father's eye colors too. It was dark gray — the usual foggy white eyes were gone that used to grace his bearded gloomy face. His eyes always darkened when he would be in quite a mood. A time like this, Allara always preferred to stay far away from him.

Her father was a stoic man, who never shared emotions and feelings with any of his children, with an exception to Brandon, and that was because her brother was the heir of Winterfell. So, with great endeavor Lord Rickard had put his heart and soul in bringing up Brandon, the heir, with proper lessons and manners. Otherwise Lord Stark spent his time mostly with the Maester getting to know about the situation of the capital and the Southern Kingdoms. Her father was deeply engrossed himself towards the southern politics, ever since their mother's demise. Allara had happened to learn that through the years of serving him as a _Steward_.

Although, no one gave an official name for the duty she was performing, she styled herself as such, after taking care of the accounts of the lands owned by the hedge knights and vassals, maintaining the taxes and debts that needed to be settled by the small folks, monitoring the horses and mules count in the stable, to give adequate coins whenever required from the treasury. Her duty stretched even more than this to make sure Lord Stark's meals are sorted and provided at the right time, by the servants.

The castellan of Winterfell, Ser Rodrick Cassel was in charge of the armory and monitoring the lands that the castle owned. Ser Rodrick was a man who adhered to his duty like a leech sticking to a goat, doing everything perfectly. So, she never had to interfere or even learn about that matters. Many said, her mother stood in the same place, where she was standing, behind her father's throne, guiding and helping Lord Rickard in all the matters of ruling, in the initial years of their marriage. Some even went a step ahead and called that Allara was the little lady Lyarra and adorned her by addressing her with the title as Lady Stark.

And every time she heard some servant address her with that title, goosebumps would form to prickle her skin, but it was not for pride or happiness. _It was for fear._ Had her father ever come to learn of her being addressed with that title, he would never give her any more responsibilities. Their relationship was not a smooth ride on a silk road with a flower bed. They both had emotional distance as far as the distance between Dorne and Beyond the Wall. She would often prefer to address him as Lord Stark, over _'father',_ at-least in front of the household.

 _Such was their bonding._ Allara doubted if giving him the numbers and counts or helping him in making judgements in court, had ever strengthened that little bonding they shared, for he never once asked her if she was doing fine, _even one day_. She forcefully shut down her emotions when it came to have any interactions with him. It was better that way, and over the years her expectations reduced as equal as the benefit of a horse piss.

There were only two things that she loved in Winterfell. One was to do any duties assigned with all her heart, so her mind would never wallow in self-pity and another was to be with her brother Brandon. She couldn't even contemplate how she would have survived if it was not for her brother's mischievous stunts to make her laugh or their weekly ride to hunt into the woods. He had always tried to cheer her, in whatever stupid ways he deemed right. Lyanna and herself were poles apart in belief. As a child, Lya never had to see their father get wasted away, after their mother had passed away and so, she was always reckless, which in turn only earned glory from her father to be prided as _'the wolf-blood'._

Whenever Lord Rickard showed fondness to Lya over her, it enraged Allara to break the Seven hells. Allara was a Stark too; _She had the wolf-blood too._ Had he ever cared to look into her once, he might have understood. All he saw was a pretty girl to decorate his hall, who acted as a perfect host to all the guests and an appropriate selfless servant with no payment in return. _Or he never saw her at all._ What did she know of the man, that she called as her father? _Nothing..._ Her anger was heating her blood and the burning fire in the hearth only helped in flustering her face to red. She was snapped out by the sound of twigs splitting in the fireplace.

 _"I have no trust in him. He was too close to the crown and now he is with too much vengeance."_ Lord Rickard scowled.

"All the more reason to turn him into your friend, my Lord." Maester Walys replied in a quiet, feeble voice.

Allara was losing her cool hearing the Maester's whispers, which had its own place in her father's head. She had no idea what the Maester had done to earn such respect. But every time, the Maester whispered... her father listened. Sometimes, it took days or even months to decide but, in the end, the Maester successfully planted his wishes. It was as though, they both were the allies against the same enemy, but both never agreed or accepted about it.

Last time, it was about Brandon's betrothal that made her father to sit in front of the fireplace like this and wallow about it for around a moon, before he decided to send a letter to Riverrun and fix Lady Catelyn Tully's hand for Brandon. Allara still remembered Brandon choking on his wine, when their father announced it during one supper. Till he met her in person, travelling all the way to Riverrun, he didn't stop ranting and raving about it, sulking in the possibilities of marrying a northern noble lady.

The truth was Allara played a vital role in igniting that conflict inside of her brother. Although she had a strained relationship with her father, she wanted to be close with Brandon. _He was her perfect brother._ He was the well-versed swordsman, a great rider and no one in the North could match him. He was tall, well built like a warrior, gallant as the knights the southerners praised about, and his charms could smite any beautiful lady. Her brother was everything a Lord was supposed to be and most important of all, he was the only person she knew would move mountains for her.

And Allara was determined in getting him married to one of the Manderly girls, who could bring more wealth of White Harbor, to Winterfell. It was not just for the wealth, but also for the friendship, that she had shared with them. She had frequented their ports and castles and had a healthy rapport with them. Lady Donella might not be a great beauty as Catelyn, but she was Allara's good friend, and there was this selfish part of her, that wanted Brandon to marry someone she was close with rather than a Tully girl, so she could frequent Winterfell, when needed.

Catelyn Tully was ambitious as her own father, Rickard Stark. And Allara would find no place in her brother's hearth, if he would choose to marry Catelyn. The thought had saddened her, but she eventually let go of it knowing, her brother's mind twisted the moment his eyes befell on that red-headed beauty in Riverrun. He even gave her some token of love with flowers before leaving for Winterfell. It was so romantic and Allara had no heart to disturb her brother's innocent love by spilling poison. _At least Brandon would be happy._

Her soon-to-be good-sister got everything that Allara ever desired. All the more reasons why Allara eventually liked Catelyn, after they met briefly in Riverrun. Even if Allara wouldn't be there around, Brandon wouldn't make any reckless decisions, with Catelyn as his lady-wife. All he had to do was listen to her, once. _But when did a woman's words reached a man's ears?_ a thought spurned in response.

She sighed drearily when her father threw a glance at her. Even after those many years of observing him, she understood nothing of his glances. He let out nothing on his face, to deduce. _It was always this way._ Longing stares and deep thoughts were the only emotion Lord Rickard Stark gave to his dearest daughter.

"Where are your brothers?"

"They all have gone for a ride. They should have come back by now." She replied thoughtfully.

"Did Lya go with them too?"

Allara stood still with pursed lips. There was no need of this question. No one would be able to stop Lya, if it came to horse rides. Why would her father need to ask such questions in the first place? "She would have also come back from the ride, father. Brandon and Ned are with her."

Lord Stark rose from his seat clearing his throat. "Make everyone to assemble in the Great Hall for supper. We have some matters to discuss."

And there it was, the orders and commands a lord would give to any of his household servants. She fisted her fingers tight to gauge her own skin and took her leave wondering whose marriage her father has planned for now. Presumably it would be for Ned. He had arrived just a day before from the Eyrie where he went to get fostered by Jon Arryn. Or it could be for herself as well. Only one thing she deduced was that, her father was not doing all of this just for a plain Southern ambition. The North had no use in the South, even the dragons knew about it. He was making a coup but for what reasons only Gods knew, and she was never the one to voice her question to Lord Stark. _A woman had no voice in any court in all the Seven Kingdoms._

* * *

Allara stood by the long table as the maids filled it with all the delicacies without forgetting to add ale and wine to the table. Her thumb instinctively worried on the red-eyes of the dire-wolf silver badge that was pinned about her chest, when curiosity twirled in her mind. All the whispers of the Maester and her father's long face, was pointing to some piece of the puzzle that she had forgot to notice.

There were many northern houses who had subtly asked for her hand during the feasts to her father. The Umbers, the KarStarks, the Ryswells, were more than subtle when they japed aloud. But her father remained mum without giving any answers. Probably, he would prefer Ned wed a northern girl. That didn't sit quite well with her father's ambitions and dreams. Even though she loved Ned with all her heart, many great southern houses would refuse to give their daughter to the second son of Rickard Stark. But who knows marrying leading a simple life would be more peaceful, with no worry to rule a large Kingdom.

She was knocked out of her thoughts, when her legs were lifted off from the ground as two strong arms wrapped her waist and she let out a squeal in fear when she was swirled in air making her head get dizzy, before Brandon placed her gingerly to the floor. The whole Great Hall was reeling before her eyes, when she heard his obnoxious laughter to boom.

"You are too much lost in your thoughts, sister. Pray, tell me, what is in your heart." Brandon teased holding her arm in place, before she crawled onto the floor.

"Her heart is filled with _taxes and numbers..._ and some fine Lords of the North. Probably that monstrous boy Cregan has finally found his way to our sweet sister's little heart after several failed attempts." Lya willfully teased her in front of Brandon knowing how much she hated that arrogant KarStark boy who made some disgusting advances on her during a dance in the feast.

 _"Cregan?..._ What did he try to do? _"_ Brandon sneered twisting his brows.

"He tried to kiss her the last time. _Ew..._ It was disgusting to see that. And what did he do the before time, Aly?" Lya asked casually spilling the truth in front of her rogue brother without even caring to think about his temper.

Brandon's fingers were twisting around her wrist, that had started to wound her, and even when she tried to push him away, it gave no fruit. "Don't listen to her. He did nothing as such. I didn't let him to." Aly replied, and her mismatched eyes burned at Lya's who casually sat on the chair with no remorse of speaking unwanted information in front of others. "You know I can deal with an arrogant arse like him. Lya is just teasing me." Aly carefully replied knowing to tread carefully with Brandon else the situation might go bad and end up in a bad disturbance with the Karstarks, along with her own reputation fly out in air.

"Tell me the truth now. If what she said is true, I will break his arm and put him in his right place." Brandon answered madly.

 _"And where that will lead us to, my son?"_ Rickard Stark's voice caught all their attention, and they turned around to see him enter with Ned and Ben by his side. "A broken arm and an irreparable bond to our vassal. Do I need to remind you about our northern men's loyalty? _'The North Remembers'_ even if you become their liege lord."

It was only then Brandon's grasp loosened around her wrist and she scrubbed the ring of pain away, when her brother took his seat, opposite to their father, with fury still dancing in his gray eyes. "Are you asking me to sit here picking roses, when some wayward man tried to touch my sister?" Brandon hissed flaring up against his father.

"He is no wayward, Brandon. Need I remind you that Karstarks are our kin? No harm has come to your sister, to get furious about." Her father casually ignored the truth and it somewhat hurt her to an extent. _Wouldn't he even care about his daughter, even if a man tried to behave wrongly with her?_ "As my heir, you need to learn when to let go and when to hold on to the things that matters. Whatever you think has happened with your sister, is all in your head."

The whole Great Hall was dreadfully silent, and when she rose her head up, the two wolf pups alone managed to find fun by teasing one another and gossiped about who managed to win in their horse ride. Ned gave awkward sorry eyes at her direction, while Brandon tore his chicken in anger eating it less graciously like a beast, and she observed her father's accusing eyes still linger on her brother's behavior.

"I have been trying to educate you to know the politics of the Kingdoms, to play the game without falling prey to your emotions. Yet, you defy me every time." Lord Stark chided.

Recently, Brandon too had taken offense in the way his father was making decisions. Perhaps, it was all because of her influence. She was always careful not to linger about her feelings towards her father, with Brandon. Allara sipped on the wine to clear her head when Brandon leaned on his chair with a mocking chuckle.

"Well, father, I don't give a shit even for the King himself, if he dares to offend my sister. What matters to me, if it is a Karstark? Kith or kin comes to an end, if they hurt my sister."

The wine she drank shot up straight to her head, making her eyes bulge in shock. Her heart swelled in pride and she would have given her brother a thousand kisses in gratitude. But even her tongue became dry when her father dropped his fork on the plate, making the whole Hall silent. It was one thing to speak ill about vassal lords and knights, but it was another level to insult the Mad King, before so many maids and servants. Even the walls had ears. Her father must have been furious for that, and she gently nudged Brandon's elbow to stop doing any more damage. It wouldn't result in any good outcomes.

"Your brother seem to have completely forgotten his duties. It will be well-suited for him to carry-on whatever you have been doing, for a moon from now." Lord Stark barked orders at her and she nodded her head in response. "Also, _Brandon..._ You will make sure to tend the horses and verify the armory count. From tomorrow, you will hold the court all by yourself, without your sister's help, not to forget about the feast arrangements for our vassals."

Brandon silently nodded with seething teeth, when Lord Rickard rose from his seat without finishing his supper, properly.

"One last thing, Brandon... A moon from now, you will receive Lord Jaime Lannister and his men. You will make sure the stay here for them to be pleasant, for a fortnight, following all the guest-rights."

Allara's mouth parted in unknown surprise, with all the information shoved into her head, at once. Her thoughts were put into words by Brandon, when he asked, "Why are they coming, all the way from Casterly Rock?"

"You are not grown enough for me to discuss these private matters. Do your duties first, then let us sit man to man and speak." Their sire gave his stern anger look at her brother and left from the Great Hall.

The whole hall was quiet while her head became blank for a moment, before realizing what Lord Jaime's visit would mean. Surely, there couldn't be a thousand reasons for his arrival. What should she be doing? Her father failed to mention anything about that to her. There was no woman to teach her what she was expected to do. Brandon squeezed her hand and cleared his throat, "Don't worry. A fancy southern lad. Probably, he will run to his home, with tails between his legs, after I call him for a training in the court-yard. They all do."

As much as she loved her brother, she felt his response to be with the same over-protectiveness. If her father was going to betroth her to Lord Jaime, then she didn't want him to hate Brandon. That would be too cruel to live with. "Brandon... Let us finish the supper. It matters nothing to me, who is coming a moon later and we don't know for what reason he is coming. You shouldn't bother either." She tried to calm the waters.

"Oh... I am not that much of a mud-head, Aly. We all know why Tywin is sending his son for a fortnight to stay. I promise you, it is not to wear winter cloaks." Brandon answered taking a long sip in his ale.

"Brother, they will be under our guest-rights." Ned interrupted by leaning forward. "And if Aly is going to get betrot-" Ned paused and stared at her red cheeks that was filled with sheer embarrassment. "Whatever it is, we have to make Lord Jaime and his companions feel welcomed."

"Well, I will welcome him and his southern glory with my sword shoved in his arse. Our father has gone mad to even think of sending Aly South. It is one thing to get a bride from South to North and another to give our girl to South. Don't preach me what is the right thing, Ned. Perhaps, we will give Lya's hand to him. She could kick his butt if required." Brandon sneered glancing towards Lya who stomped her foot on ground in anger.

"And here comes my mighty big brother. If you speak about marriage one more time, in front of me, I will run my horse over you." Lya scowled angrily and walked over to Brandon with a glass of wine and threw it on his face.

That must have infuriated him all the more, before he pushed his chair to the ground to seize Lya by her wrist in fury to hit her. But Aly stopped them both, by getting in between them and ended up getting her arm hit so hard, that it started turning purple. The wine in her head only helped her to unleash anger on everyone around and she screamed aloud.

" _Stop it, Brandon!_ You are not helping in solving anything. First fix what is going on between you and father, then you can care about me." Brandon tightened his jaw when Ned came to see her bruised arm, which she forgot to notice the cause of it. "Has it even occurred to you, what I think of all these?"

"You must fight back against father." Lya answered with angry knitted brows. "Why should the boys stay here while we must leave? We have all the rights as them."

Aly just gaped her mouth in shock, not understanding what her sister was speaking. Had she never lived in Winterfell, at all? Had she never seen what women mean for men in Westeros? It was all fine to speak protesting words but what choice did they truly have, in the end. "I am going to my chamber. And we will not speak about this anymore."

When she left for the Keep, Lya trailed behind her, mumbling curses at Brandon at every turn. "You know what you should do? Make that southern prick to take a bath in the frozen lake of the WolfsWood. He will run back to his castle, with an iced nose. Or..."

"Stop it, Lya. Don't you dare to pull these tricks with Lord Jaime. He is Lord Tywin's heir. The man will not take any slight as such, easily. Do you understand me?" Aly wanted to put a stop her sister's antics, that might insult the Lannisters.

"I am just trying to help you, from escaping." Lya howled longingly. "Gods... You are in such a mood, today."

"I don't need your help." Aly answered calmer than before. Lya moved in front Allara and stared at her eyes for a longer time. "You won't understand. You can't understand. You are still young to understand."

 _"Do you want to make babies?"_ Lya asked with a disgusting face scrunching her nose up awkwardly.

 _"What?"_ Aly screeched slamming her head with her own palm for even trying to explain it to Lya, who hadn't even had her moon blood yet. "No... I just want to get to know him. Maybe, he is likeable, Lya. It is not like father is going to stop sending me to another house. I have to marry one day."

"We can put a stop to it, you know. If we both work together..."

"You need to stop plotting plans for escaping a marriage. Anyway, father will not get you married now. Don't fret and go to sleep." Aly replied in frustration and flung her chamber door open. She fell on to the feather bed for a good night's sleep where she could forget about her father, or the supper and imagine that all her siblings were perfect. But a form creeped onto her bed and wrapped its wrist around her waist.

"I am sorry. I let Brandon beat you." Lya whispered.

She sighed a relief when her sister at last stopped speaking about betrothal and marriage. "It's okay. He didn't mean it. He would never hurt me."

"You give him too much credit than he deserves." Lya answered back.

Allara wanted to argue that it was not the truth and Brandon was perfect. But there was no point to it, when she heard soft snores coming from her sister. Ignoring everything she drowned into deep slumber thinking about a boy with golden-hair that might shine like her own strand of golden hair at the crown. He might be gallant, kind and loving, as Brandon. Perhaps, he might even like her. It was indeed a great fortune to marry the heir of Casterly Rock, which was supposedly filled with gold-mines, over to marry an old-man with no wealth of his own, just for a political benefit. She just wished there was someone to speak about this with. Would her mother have helped had she been alive? That thought led her into some dangerous pit, which she had sealed inside her heart for years.


	3. Part Of The Pack

This was the fifth time, she restarted to braid her hair and like herself her hair was also panicked to assemble into a proper clump at the end. Allara tried to give her best look. Lord Jaime Lannister and five of his men had already arrived the castle. As it was Brandon's duty to welcome the guests, she had all the time for herself from the morning. And she would be expected to join the supper with them, she wanted to look at her best, for which reasons, she was trying to perfect her hair.

Frustratingly, she sighed and sat on a chair, resting her head on her palms, knowing her hair and herself were going to be a total disaster. Loud thuds of boot sound clanged against the stone floors near her chamber. It was Brandon's clamorous voice that announced his entry even before himself at the door.

"Aly, the wine casks are all empty in the cellar. The servants have no idea where the remaining twenty casks are stored." Brandon fumed in annoyance.

"Did you ask Mage about it?"

"Of course I asked. That dumb cunt is blaming it all on Martyn Cassel, calling him a drunkard. And Martyn swears he hasn't been in town for a moon now. I wish I could crush their lying arses and make wine out of it." Brandon groaned and walked like a cat across her chamber pushing things around and placing it back to the same place where it belonged in complete irritation.

Well, after this one moon of trial, she came to a conclusion that had never even dared to enter her head before. Her brother sucked at managing the household. He was incapable of getting work done from men without barking at them, and for each line of order he commanded, five curse words dangled in air. Allara had to stand behind him for everything, as she had done for her father. She hoped the Tully girl had learned to run a household of a castle, in Riverrun. At that moment, though, her heart was running a high hill, at the thought of meeting Lord Jaime. So she frankly ignored Brandon and studied herself in front of the reflection glass, correcting her loosened hair over and over.

"Without the wine, there won't be a feast, right? Perhaps, you shouldn't check for the wine. We can call it a day and go to bed." Allara answered and adjusted her worn-out silver wolf badge of red-eyes. Silence was her brother's response. "Oh... It is a brilliant idea. It might work even for a fortnight till they depart. No wine... No feast." Her eyes sparkled in joy staring at herself in the mirror while the prospect of getting escaped from this awkward meeting was presenting itself.

A week ago the Maester Walys invited her to his turret and educated her to be polite and gracious around Lord Jaime. That was none of his business and she knew he was crossing a line. But after she left the tower, panic set in motion thinking about how she should present herself. She came back to reality when the chamber was awfully quiet, and she found Brandon to stare at her with a slightly parted mouth, and bewilderment.

"What is wrong with you, sister?" Brandon quizzed. " _No wine... No feast...?_ We have spiced ale. Also, it will just take three days to get wine from the Cerwyns. Why are you even thinking about postponing the feast?"

"Brandon... I am nervous." She blurted with shaking fingers. "I don't know the reason."

Brandon straightened his back and walked towards her. "You have nothing to worry about. He is green as horse piss. You should have seen the southern haughtiness, smirking on his lips. _You are going to hate him._ " Brandon implied in a strong tone. It was almost like, her brother didn't want her to like Lord Jaime and he was enforcing it on Allara the same way she had done for him before he met Lady Catelyn.

"Thirty-five casks of Arbor Gold are stored in West Tower's basement for keeping it in a cool ground. Ask Mage and Martyn to help you." Allara answered.

Brandon pinched her cheek and gave a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I am not sure what I will do, without you." And with that he left her alone to deal her messy hair.

* * *

Jaime looked out at the court-yard from his guest tower, which was covered with a layer of snow. This was his first _longest_ journey, which took almost close to a moon from Crakehall. And he realized how vast the North was, making him roam like a ghost in those barren empty lands. _He despised it._ Never in his whole life, there was a need to wear such heavy woolen cloaks that weighed down his own body to ground. Now, without those fur to wrap his skin, he might quiver and die before earning to be a knight. He had already delivered the sealed parchment to Lord Stark that his father had sent with him. This mundane job could have been done by anyone but his father had insisted that the message was so important and it had to be delivered personally. Mostly, it was for the prospect of seeing a faraway land he accepted to go ahead on this journey. Now, Jaime's duty was over and he wanted nothing other than going back to the Rock, where sun would welcome him with a bright smile.

 _"Fucking cold!"_ Merrett Frey howled from behind, wrapping his cloak tight against his body. "These northern lords are some _sort'a_ witches, I say. It's hot inside those stone walls while cold outside." His companion who accompanied him from Crakehall rubbed his arms to frighten away the blistering cold. Something was surely weird in this castle. As his sloppy head friend admitted, the walls were warm to touch and none of these folks looked like the people in South. They all were looking like tall, bearded and grumpy beasts.

"Come... Let us join the feast, and let those grumpy Starks to take us to grave, before this cold finds its way." Jaime urged his heavy friend to move out from the tower. On the way, he found a maid walk towards them, with a pail of water in her hand. All the water almost spilled when the maid gave a long stare at him, blushing till her cheeks became red. Jaime casually ignored it as he always had that effect on many women he came across, even in the Rock. But his Frey friend gave his twisted laugh towards the maid and waited to see her behind, till she disappeared.

"Whatever you say, Jaime... These northern girls are so inviting." Merrett drooled by even looking at a maid.

"You must have lost your eyes along with your wits. I don't find them attractive." Jaime chided as he took longer steps towards the Hall.

"Ah... That's because you always steal every girl's attention. Besides, you are not the best judge when it comes to women. I have been with a lot to know how they even taste, from a distance."

Jaime wanted to knock his half-wit companion's tooth out, saying how Jaime had his share of women too. He and his sister, Cersei, had done some experiments on their bodies, during their time, in the Rock. It had been years, since he last saw her but those memories were a sweet reminder for him to go home at the earnest. Now, coming this far North to these cold lands, made his body to ache more for his sister's warm touch.

"Did you hear about the Stark girl, in the inn? They say she is quite a catch." Merrett murmured from behind. Jaime had heard about the eldest Stark girl's freaky appearance in his time, during the journey. He didn't think she was a catch. All he heard was some tales about discoloured hair and mismatched eyes, which only made him feel disgusting to even imagine. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew Cersei was the _catch_.

"I wonder what beauty they have hidden inside this ice castle." Merrett pondered as they neared the hall entrance. "All these northern mysteries are triggering more suspense inside of me, Jaime." As Merrett kept mumbling about a possible askew, ugly girl, Jaime started to lose his serene. The Starks were cold and aloof. No maid could even come near Cersei. His sister had already earned the title as the Light of the West. The power and beauty of the Lannisters were as high as the Targaryens for the Stark girl to even think about competing.

Jaime paused and flared at Merrett. "Perhaps, you can try to _taste_ that Stark girl. Both of your hideous features will produce perfect grotesque looking grumkin children these northerners fear about. Finally, there will be a real scary story to wet my pants." Jaime mocked and laughed on Merrett's dumbstruck face. His friend's mouth gaped wide in shock, staring past at something behind Jaime.

_"Will they look like your dwarf-brother, Lord Jaime?"_

Jaime bit his tongue for speaking so aloud and he slowly turned hearing to that sweet voice. To say he was stupefied would be an understatement. His emerald eyes swelled to see a dazzling creature in front of him. She didn't appear to be a human at all. The northerners in the inn, failed to construe her radiant beauty. And it was her slightly large mismatched eyes that bewitched him. When he studied their colour, he observed her knitted brow that expressed her anger. Clearly, she must have heard every word that had escaped his mouth. _He wanted to apologize._ He almost approached to express his regret, knowing how unmannerly he spoke in front of a lady, especially to the most beautiful witch. But then her words rang in his ears. Did she just mention, Tyrion as a dwarf and monster?

"Pardon me... Did you just bring my brother into this?"

She scoffed lifting her brows. "You have the gall to ask that question. Last I heard, you beautifully praised about my imaginative children with... this Lord Frey." Allara trailed wondering the name of his companion. "And you feel offended when I bring your real monster-brother into your own conversation?"

Jaime's jaw tightened in fury and he pressed his lips tight to form a straight line. Had he worn a sword about his belt, he might have cut her tongue to mute her entrancing voice forever. "If I have not broke bread and salt in your home, I would have-"

"What would you have done?" She arched her right brow in surprise but sooner a calmness surrounded her face. "Are you trying to threaten me? Or are you frightened?" She smirked trying to stir his hot blood. "As long as you are our guest, you can sleep without worry. I won't harm you."

His sincere passion wanted to give a fitting curse word in response, so she might cower to a corner, wailing like a helpless woman. But before any of that was about to happen, a tall bearded man who he met in the morning at the castle gates, appeared behind her, staring at Jaime, like some lowborn. "Aly... Is everything alright with our new friend?"

"Yes, Brandon. Lord Jaime, here, has forgotten his way to the dais. I am just helping him and his Frey friend." Allara gritted her teeth and answered.

That was calling for a war, he realized. Brandon Stark, held his sister's arms protectively, and took her out of his way. Upon reaching the dais to have their supper, Jaime sat opposite to her staring at her pretty mismatched eyes which were enchanting him. But he wanted to pluck them out. Her beauty didn't sit well with her manners. Merrett, Lord Rickard Stark, even his second son, Lord Eddard Stark spoke cordially, enquiring about the journey. But he wasn't interested in their simpleminded conversation. He was determined to exact vengeance on that insolent girl for insulting his little brother. _'A Lannister always pays his debts'_

* * *

Next day, when Jaime looked out to see the world, through his window, a lot of commotion was going on, bringing life even to this dreadful place. Jaime was surprised when a visitor came by his door, who was merely a boy of ten. He failed to recollect the boy, from the little feast from the previous day, but he could guess that the boy was a Stark, by the look of his long face.

"Do you want to join us in the court-yard? Brandon wanted me to invite you." The boy asked by peeping into his chamber.

"Sure." Jaime answered with a new-found joy to do the only thing that he was passionate about. "I am sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Jaime Lannister." He offered his hand.

"I know... Everyone can identify you with that hair color of yours. Even my sister has few strands like that." The boy smiled and shook Jaime's hand with delectation. "I am Benjen Stark. Should we invite your Frey friend?"

"I guess not..." Jaime ignored calling Merrett who was complaining the previous night about how he hated the cold and declared that would never step out from the warm embrace of his stone chamber. "You have to do with only me. Who is the master-at-arms?"

"Ser Rodrick Cassel... But he is not available today. It's only me, you, Ned and Brandon." The boy answered and strode quickly, taking him towards that vast court-yard where his brothers were sparring against each other, and the sound of steel hitting against steel, started to stir his blood making goose prickles spread along his calloused skin. He gave a momentary pause to rest his own urges that was screaming to lift a steel for himself. Instead Jaime cautiously observed both the Stark men's moves.

Brandon was of large build and his muscular strength, aided with brilliant swinging techniques made him a tough competitor than Jaime would have thought. Jaime completely relied on tactics of swinging a sword over strength but Brandon seemed to be no fool, with a steel in his hand. His blows were heavy enough to split a person into two, yet he was swift enough to return to his previous position. Ned Stark was trying to block all his brother's swings, by mostly taking defence. Jaime fingers flexed itself, imagining himself in Ned Stark's place, when he thought all the ways, he would have reflected against Brandon Stark's moves. The brothers' sparring ended sooner, when Brandon took all the opportunities to hit at his younger brother, in multiple unguarded places of Ned Stark's body.

Brandon removed his helm wiping away the sweat that formed a layer on his face, steering his gaze at Jaime and then it drifted somewhere above him. It was no surprise when Jaime raised his head to see Allara Stark stand along with another boy, leaning on the rails of the porch on the Great Keep, witnessing the training of her brothers.

"Jaime Lannister... Ready for a duel?" Brandon cried with a pride smirk on his lips and that was enough for Jaime to smile, even when he knew it was aimed to make him defeated in front of his sister, who would have complained about their encounter the previous day. He accepted immediately and hurried along with Benjen to the armory, cladding himself in iron mail chain, steel armour and a helmet — all of gray coloured with a dire wolf for sigil.

When he was about to ask for a blunt sword to Benjen, the boy whispered in a meek voice. "Brandon wanted to know if you are brave enough to meet a real steel.."

Jaime glowered at the Stark boy for having the audacity to repeat what his brother had asked. But sooner Jaime actualized that Brandon had invited him to the court-yard in the pretext of training, sending away the master-at-arms to beat him up. But the Stark heir had got no idea how Jaime liked to get challenged in a duel. "Hope your brother won't cry, when he bleeds." Jaime scowled making Benjen widen his eyes in surprise.

Jaime swung his sword to train his wrist, before wearing the helm and took the shield in his left arm. Circling Brandon, he carefully noticed his opponent's leg movements, before lunging to strike his blade with its flat. Brandon took charge and threw a cut but Jaime blocked it reflexively. They both moved back and forth, until, sweat dribbled down their faces, tension among them elevating to another level.

Brandon's brute force was taking a toll, after some heavy clashes, giving Jaime a leverage in the game. _Jaime was born for this._ Hot blood rushed towards the tip of his ear lobes heating his body, making his life to thrive, when Jaime stroke back, landing blows left and right, over and over, making the Stark to stumble a few times, before he unleashed all his power to hit at Brandon's armoured arm.

That must have stirred a beast inside of Brandon, making him sneer and snarl at Jaime, with bristling anger. He saw no human in front; it was a beast that got tested in the wild. That monstrous man, riled up on Jaime by giving a remarkable swing aimed straight at his face, and Jaime got only an inch distance to pull his face away to avoid danger. Jaime's legs dangerously slipped back and before he contemplated to raise his sword, another strong cut dawned on him, and just at the right time, he pulled his shield up. Jaime's oaken shield cracked for bearing that cut.

_"Ned... Are they sparring with real steel?"_

A woman's voice bellowed from the porch but neither Jaime nor Brandon heeded to that sound. Both were at that point in the fight of no return. _First cut -_ Jaime dodged but got a hollow scratch on the armour. _Second cut -_ Brandon's shield blocked, but his blood spilled on the ground when Jaime's blade kissed the Stark man's skin near his wrist. Before the third cut was aimed by Brandon, approaching closer to Jaime's neck, which probably would have had its taste of blood, Ned Stark stopped his brother.

"Are you both mad to use real sword?" Ned Stark seethed taking a vague look at Brandon's bleeding wrist.

Brandon snarled at his own brother and pushed him to the ground in a single thrust with his bleeding arm. When Jaime stared at Brandon's gray eyes, which was wild as their sigil, he straightened to return to his position, raising his blade in defence. Out of nowhere, Allara, came to her brother's side, planting her hands on his armoured chest and attempted to stop him.

"Brandon... _What the fuck is wrong with you?_ Stop this madness else I will have to call the guards."

For a moment, Jaime thought Brandon would shove his sword right up her heart. He seemed to be that mad and Jaime was not really sure, if he should go to rescue her. But the Stark heir's anger subsided after staring at his sister for a while. Somewhere a voice was screaming at the back of Jaime's head to see them both like himself and Cersei. It was clearly evident they both were close like himself and Cersei. _But were they that close?_

Slapping the sword away from her brother's hand, she went to Ned enquiring about something in concern. The whole yard went out of focus for Jaime, when Brandon removed his helmet pushing his shoulder long hair back with his finger, that was sticking to the sweat on his face, and approached him solemnly. Brandon measured Jaime, from head to toe, tugging his lower lip under his teeth, immersing himself in deep thought.

"I must agree... you surprised me."

Jaime finally lowered his sword, when his heart swelled in pride for that comment regarding his skill. With a wide smile he replied, "You didn't disappoint me, either."

Even though Jaime expected a typical Stark cold response, he was taken aback when Brandon bellowed out a huge laugh and nodded his head, patting Jaime on his shoulder. "Come on, now, Lannister. We will celebrate your arrival in a grander fashion, at the inn, nearby."

And with that same smile, when Brandon Stark walked towards his sister, who was standing with crossed arms, glaring at her brother, there was a lot of yelling and chiding coming out of her pretty lips. She was quite a sight when anger flecked on her mismatched eyes. And for the first time, Brandon introduced his brothers to Jaime with a smile never leaving his face, that was uncommon for most of the northerners. It took only a few minutes to let go off that weird animosity that had been surrounding around the Starks for Jaime. And finally he was introduced to Allara Stark.

"We already had a brief introduction yesterday, Brandon." She rolled her eyes, instead of accepting his presence. She was not pleased to see all of her brothers getting close with him. Somehow, that made him more thrilled. She made Brandon to hold his bleeding wrist, with his other hand. "Keep it tight... And come to my chamber, while I go steal salve from the Maester." Allara left from there, without any curtsey, but she gave him one last glance with spite, before leaving.

"Trust me... She will come around. Although, she is never the one to behave like this with any of the guests. Which brings me to ask you, what happened yesterday?" Brandon asked curiously clutching his wounded arm.

"Didn't she tell you about it?" Jaime asked. To his surprise, he realized she had said nothing about it to her brothers. It didn't mean that, he had forgotten of it either. And even though, he understood the Stark boys, he wanted to hurt her back, before he left to the Rock. "Its silly. How about we go to the inn, after you fix your wrist?" Jaime diverted, and they all left that place, making japes and mockery all the way.


	4. False Promises

"Mikken had to make this specially to fit my hand. A castle-forged steel... which is nowhere near to Ice." Brandon's voice could be heard from inside of her father's solar.

"Your long-sword is heavier than anyone's and Valyrian steel is supposed to be lighter. Ain't it?" This was Jaime's voice that made her to frown. Allara looked at the misformed words on the parchment, that she was writing to the Masterly house Forrester, summoning the criminals to be bought to Winterfell, for justice. The words didn't exert any power. She had used too many _'pleases and requests'_ — fancy and polite. She crunched that parchment, trying to impart all her rage into that wasted piece of sheet instead of thinking about her big brother, who spent all his time with that arrogant Lannister boy.

_She hated Jaime._

He was haughty and pompous, much to her disappointment and all the dreams of meeting a decent, noble man, shattered into pieces of broken glasses, when Jaime mocked her as a monster bearing girl, without even having a little of concern. Now, to add salt to her wound, Brandon had taken a great liking for Jaime, who happened to accompany Brandon everywhere. This was the same brother who boasted that he would make the lion cub run to Casterly Rock with his tails between the legs. She felt Brandon had even forgotten her existence. She wanted to give her peace of mind to Brandon had he not be seen always with Jaime.

_One more week, I have to bear, then the arrogant boy will be gone. 'And then what?,'_ a voice popped into her head. _I will get betrothed to him and one day I will marry him._

Her eyes stared at the empty stone wall, imagining how her life would be with Jaime Lannister, in Casterly Rock, _alone and abandoned_. All she saw was... _nothing_. Had he not spoken arrogantly, she might have fallen head over heels, for his skills in swinging a sword and that _smile_... which had cut like a knife.

"Ice cannot be used in a fight. It is too huge to swing, even though the blade is Valyrian." Brandon explained to Jaime as they entered the same chamber where she was sitting. Her brother didn't bother to give even a glance towards her direction, when he went straight towards the wall where Ice was placed. The unsheathing sound of Ice from its scabbard gave goose-flesh to her body. Both the men's eyes were wide in delight, seeing the dark spell-forged blade. _Men and their toys._

"Can I hold it?" Jaime asked with wide emerald eyes, that was fixed only on the ripples of the blade. He drew his breath sharply when the sword was thrusted into his hand and started to swing it in the air. Had he not seen a Valyrian steel before? Or was this the only thing that made men get passionate about? The eagerness and devotion deduced from Jaime's wondering gaze had never occurred to her... _ever_.

"I can't believe House Lannister doesn't have a Valyrian steel." Brandon voiced her thoughts.

"Oh... I think there was one Valyrian sword, called Brightroar. But one of the Lannister Kings, lost himself and the sword in Valyria."

"That must be a pity..." She muttered aloud to her own surprise and when Jaime stared at her, she rolled her eyes in contempt.

"Yes, my lady. It is indeed a pity." Jaime said. Allara was determined to keep her mouth shut, but the leftover disappointment of meeting the wrong guy who had no manners, forced her to utter things like this. "But don't strain yourself, over a Lannister King or a Valyrian sword, which clearly... is not your forte. Perhaps, you must indulge in the tales and songs of Jonquil and Florian the fool. By the way, Aren't you supposed to be accompanied by a Septa?"

Her knuckles paled for the fist she made for calling her a girl who only should worry about tales and songs and before she opened her mouth to give curses, Brandon raised his hand defensively.

"Whoa... Jaime... That is not how you speak to my sister." Brandon awkwardly moved his weight from one foot to another thinking of better ways to calm the situation. "And what is this song about a fool? I never heard of it before... And why does Aly need to be with a Septa?"

"It is all their southern folly, Brandon... They imagine that all the noble ladies think of foolish knights and pray to the Seven to forgive their sins." She snapped while raising up from her chair. "Lord Jaime... Need I remind you that you are in Winterfell. The knights and the Seven has no power here, only the Old Gods rule..."

He chuckled in response. " _Old Gods, old rules_ and... too _old-fashioned_." His eyes pitied her as though he was looking at a simple-minded girl. "Do you even know how esteemed it is to be a knight? One does not get knighted for the family he comes from, but for his _valour, honor and skill_ in a battle, or in a tourney by the greatest of the knights _._ " Allara found the same excitement in Jaime's face, that was there when he held Ice in his hands. "It comes with responsibilities, to protect the innocent, the weak and the women. It is _glory_..."

_"So gallant, Lord Jaime."_ She mocked. "I am already falling to your feet, for the sway of your words. Sorry to crash your dream. There is no need of a knight here, when every northern man is as chivalrous as a southern knight. The harsh climate teaches us the value to help one another, without thinking about the glory and the songs that one might get sung about." His face paled for a moment and she couldn't help but smile. "It seems like you want to sing a song for yourself. Perhaps, we can name it as _'Jaime, the valiant and his seven sword' or 'Jaime, the sword fool...'_ " Jaime's parted lips was set tight in sheer embarrassment.

"Aly..." Brandon chided but Jaime left the solar instantly, while he dragged his fingers through those golden hairs.

Allara wondered if she crossed the boundary. "He is too uptight and takes himself too serious, Brandon. This might teach him some humility."

Brandon laughed to her surprise. "Aye, that he is. But... he is a good lad. I thought you will like him." It was her time to shift the weight between her legs. "He is brave and strong... and will protect you from any harm."

"I don't need anyone's protection." Allara snapped and waited for Brandon to leave, instead of having this annoying conversation. There was no way this match would go fruitful and perhaps, she should inform this to father before he accepted the proposal. When she finally dared to lift her head, she found Brandon's gray eyes that was trying to intimidate her. "You were the one who wanted me not to like him. Now, all you do is roam with him, everywhere... like you have already decided even before father has confirmed."

"I know... I thought he was an arse-"

"He is an arse, Brandon. I don't know how none of you can see that. He mocks me-"

Brandon sighed. "Stop putting all the blame on him. You haven't even given a chance to know him. You mock him at any earnest opportunity." Allara slumped on the chair making a long face. "If our father decides, he is the one-"

"I know..." She ended. There would be no way to escape from what Lord Rickard Stark would pass as his final words. Even Brandon was not spared. She was just a woman who had the least of her father's favour. "Fine... I will try to have a proper conversation with Jaime." Brandon raised his brow, suspiciously. " _'Politely', brother._ " She added.

"Never in my wildest dream had I thought of a situation like this, where I have to be the one to teach you, _'politeness'_." Brandon roared a thunder of laugh before leaving the chamber, letting her to work on the letter that she had been writing. But how could she write while her mind rehearsed the words she would use to parley with Jaime to sue for peace?

* * *

Allara stood by the entrance of the vast glass garden, tugging the ends of her long braid, when someone cleared his throat from behind. When she turned around, Jaime stood crossing his arms across his chest, while looking at her skeptically. With the setting sun falling behind his golden head, he appeared so handsome.

"Aly, Can I leave? I bought him to you, already." Benjen stomped his foot annoyingly like someone had poured hot-water.

"No... You cannot leave me alone-" She chided through gritted teeth, trying to bribe her brother to stay with her.

"I am not going to pick roses with you. Ned said he will teach me archery." Benjen screamed.

"I can teach you tomorrow, if you-" Allara tried to coerce him but her little brother ran so fast, with his feet hitting the back of his knees, before she even completed her sentence. All the while, she could sense Jaime's eyes roam all over her body. She started to fiddle with her fingers, when words failed to explain the reason why she had asked him to come. "I thought of asking, if-" Somehow, understanding her palpable discomfort, Jaime offered his arm, like a _gallant knight_. Perhaps, he would make a perfect knight. Without further thought, she wound her arm in his and entered the garden.

"It is too hot here." He commented looking above to find the yellow glass ceiling.

"It was constructed by Brandon the Builder." She echoed and walked by the footpath near the newly planted vegetables and fruits. This place was hot as summer and none of her brothers would visit for its heat. Only Lyanna dared to visit the place to pick the winter blue roses. She licked her dry chap lips and gathered some courage. "I hope it is not boring for your taste. I would have taken you to the Godswood but-"

"Well, this garden is very warm like the Rock. One cannot refuse to use all the warmth in the North." Jaime answered while gently brushing her knuckles with his thumb. Her foot slipped for that warm touch and her mind went blank for a moment, when Jaime pulled her carefully by her arms. "Are you fine, my lady? It looks like the heat doesn't suit you well."

"No... I like the heat too." She answered untangling her arms from him and turned her head all around to see if any servants or guards roamed that area. Guilt was flooding inside her body, for being too close... or being too alone with him.

"Is it? Your palms are sweaty already." He asked by brushing his fingers to her palms.

"I assure you, it is not for the heat, my lord." She whispered so feebly and felt like a child when her cheeks went red. If he took notice of her flared cheeks, he didn't bother to show it in his face. Jaime hummed in response and took a stroll slowly, staring at the yellow glass of the garden with each step. "I must have not said those things, in the morning. It was wrong of me, my lord."

His eyes stared at hers, too deep, making her to turn red like a tomato, that she could have offered it to be exchanged for the vegetable, that was growing in that garden. _"Jaime"_ He said. Allara was confused. But he gave one smile that cut straight to her heart. "Call me, Jaime. We can be friends, Allara." He offered his hand. Instantly, she shook it with a smile wide enough to set aside all her doubts and worries. "Now, tell me about your archery skill."

_"Archery?"_ She raised a brow thinking of why or rather how he knew she used a bow and arrow. He sat on the long stone chair, by the winter flowers and patted next asking her to do the same. Then the memories of bribing Benjen flashed before her eyes, making her to chuckle. "You have a very sharp memory, Jaime."

"That I doubt... My brother, Tyrion, even though the smallest, is the brightest of the litter. I am the sword and my sister, Cersei, is the beauty." Jaime leaned forward and picked a perfect bright blue rose. "Although, I must admit I have found a rival even for my sister's beauty." He offered that flower to her, and she stared at him in utter disbelief. _Is he courting me?_

"About _archery_ -" She wanted to change the topic, for her palms were getting sweaty again. "I am not a marksman but... Brandon takes me to hunting, so he taught me to shoot with a longbow."

"Your brother teaches you all these?" Jaime pondered.

"Yeah... Actually, he wanted me to ride like him in the horse but..." She shrugged with a smile and traced the blue petals with her fingers. "That is not me... it is my sister, Lyanna. They both ride like centaurs."

"You and your brother are like me and my sister, I suppose. But we both are twins and you both are not..." He almost said like a statement than a question, but his eyes never left hers.

"Well, he is my big brother. And I always look up to him."

Jaime's hand reached her wrist that was holding the flower and her heart skipped a beat when the fragrance of those blue winter roses mixed with a sudden gust of wind. When she dared to see his eyes, he carefully pushed a strand of hair out from her eyes, and tugged it behind her ears. "Do you want to come out with me, to the nearby inn? To say the truth, this place is quite boring."

"I wish I could. But the sun has set down-"

"I will be close to you. See, I have a sword with me and you have seen me swinging. Do you trust my sword fighting skills at least?"

Of course, she trusted him. Had she seen any man best Brandon in the yard? "I do have trust in you but if someone finds out that I went with you to the town, at this hour, then-"

"Brandon showed me a way in and out, without getting caught by the guards. Come with me... Please... I have something to show you." Jaime urged offering a hand to her, but she had never done such things before. Her first fear was what her father would say, if she got caught. Lord Stark might abdicate her or who knew, he might even disown her. When her confusion peaked, and she thought about it for a long time, Jaime kneeled before her placing one hand on her knee, and gave a warm smile that cheered her. "You know what.. Your eye colour changes along with the change in your feelings."

"What?" She asked in arrant confusion.

"Don't fear." He assured soothingly. "I will take you back to the castle safely." He promised while helping to her feet. _She felt shy_. Even though her senses screamed not to do this and get caught into a scandal, even before even getting betrothed to the boy, she was thrilled to follow him.

Jaime offered her a cloak to hood her head, as they trailed through the lich yard and reached the battlement of the north gate. When they emerged out, she found all sorts of men filling the void in Wintertown, by buying ponies, horses, lambs, cloth. Some were yelling and bargaining so aloud that created a chaos of events, when Jaime took a narrow path towards the right. Many times, she had visited the place to buy fine silk clothes, if they ever arrived from the Torrhen's squire but this new path was unfamiliar to her.

"Smoking Log is not this way. Are we really going to an inn?" She questioned.

"No..." Jaime answered uncovering his own golden head by pushing away the hood, as he stood before a small door of the stone building, where mild music was coming from. But that didn't look like a front entrance, it was the back entrance. "Come" He took her inside by pushing that screeching steel gate. The light was so low that she had to adjust her eyes, to see those awful number of people swarming inside.

All drunk men cursing a woman, in front of her desk, in wild-filthy language. This didn't look like a tavern or... a place safe for that matter. "Jaime, what is this place?" She tugged his cloak in panic and he gave a smirk before clutching her wrist in his hand.

"I said follow me." He dragged her on the staircase, as he climbed and her eyes stung for how wide it went, when she saw women walking naked, with their breasts spilled out, displaying it to some men who stood before them. At a corner, if she was not wrong there was a man fucking a whore, with loud cries of pleasure reaching all the way to her ears.

"You bastard! Did you take me a whorehouse!" She shrieked trying to wriggle her wrist.

"Aye... But you came all this way long. Don't you want to see why I bought you here for, _my lady?_ " He used a sick smile before opening the window of a chamber where light was spilling from. She glowered at him. Anger touched the tip of her nose, making it flare, but she simply rose on the tip of her feet, to peek in. The ambience of that chamber was so calm, filled with fragrance of lavender oil. Pleasure moans of a man and a woman were audible enough to know they were _fucking_. For a moment she thought of giving a clout to Jaime's ear but curiosity or eagerness pushed her to take a peep inside and she saw _Brandon_. He was naked, and a whore was doing unspeakable... or unimaginable things... kneeling down before him. When her eyes viewed her brother's naked body, a disturbing twist curled in her guts, and she swirled to give a fisted punch to Jaime's chest.

"How dare you?" Allara seethed clenching her fingers around his collar but he laughed like a madman.

"What were you saying about all northern men being knights? Well, listen little-wolf, all men are men. And your dearest brother is the worst of them all." He pulled her hand down. "He has no honour or valour that you proudly bragged about, in the morning. Your sweet brother gives a visit here almost every day. I like him truly... He is hot blooded-" When tears rolled from her cheeks, he paused to take a notice of her red nose. "Why are you crying? I didn't-"

She pushed his arm away from her hand when tears endlessly rolled down and she stumbled forward clutching to her cloak tightly, trying to run through the stairway where they came from. Suddenly, a man huge and tall, like a giant loomed before her, trying to hold her wrist, with a sick grin.

"And how much does this beauty cost?" The ugly man leaned forward to hold her chin. But his hands were stopped by Jaime.

"If I were I would not lay even my eyes over her." Jaime threatened pointing a sharp steel of a dagger near the ugly man's throat.

There was cursing from both the ends, and so many people started gathering near her. Shame, guilt, embarrassment — all at once took over her body, and she ran till her legs touched the back of her knees, towards Winterfell, not wishing to be recognized by anyone, especially by Brandon. She trusted Jaime, that he was... romantic. Oh... How stupid of her to expect that? When she crossed the battlements, towards the exit near the lich yard, she tried to push away all the tears, instead they kept spilling and she sat near the stone walls pulling her knees up to her chest while she tried so hard to forget that it was her big brother, who she always admired as a hero was fucking a whore. How much ever she tried, that image of him, refused to leave her head.

"Seven save me... I was worried sick of you, when you left me running like that." Jaime kneeled planting his hand on her knees. "What if someone got hold of you?" He blathered.

She slapped his hand away from her body. "Are you not happy of hurting me? Taking me to a whorehouse? Showing my own brother fucking a whore? What else do you want to do that you are trying to flirt again?"

His eyes bulged, but she utterly despised him, for showing Brandon like that. She had worshipped her brother _and now..._ there was a disgusting feeling that lingered in her heart. She wouldn't go there. If she thought Brandon to be the wrong one, then it meant Jaime had won hurting her. So, she managed to gather herself and walk away when Jaime kept following her. It annoyed more than what he had done.

"Stop it, Jaime. Go your own way."

"Allara... I am sorry. I didn't think it will hurt you this much. I thought if you saw him that way-"

"What?" She screeched. "That I will say, you will become one of the greatest knights. My brother was supposed to be perfect in my unhappy life. And you destroyed it. _I just hate you._ I wish you never came here." He looked so stunned. "You said you and your sister were close. Imagine the pain you will feel, if you ever see her fucking a man." Allara didn't have any feeling left over to anticipate his expression which almost appeared regretful. So, she left to her solar, with a heaving chest, and curled up beneath the layers of fur, as she tried healing her broken heart that was filled with a huge pile of crappy hopes that Jaime actually tried to court her. Her pathetic little heart felt so wounded. A winter blue rose petal fell to her fingers from her hair and she plucked that stupid flower, which only gave false promises. She hated the flower... and Jaime even more.

* * *

Lyanna wiped the layer of sweat that formed on her skin, with the back of her hand, while she kept knocking at that tall oaken door in front of her. She was annoyed or more irritated from everyone's behaviour for the past five days, especially her siblings' and she knew who might have been the cause for all of it. Just when she raised her hand to the door, Benjen interrupted.

"I will train with you, now. Don't do anything stupid, Lya."

Lyanna stared at her little brother, grinding her teeth, for refusing to continue their sword fight, just moments before, saying silly excuses and now when she wanted to confront to the person who caused the problem, Benjen was trying to back away.

"Go away. I will ask him myself of why he keeps disturbing our practices." She pushed Ben out of her way, and tried to give another knock, but the door was missing, replaced by a tall boy.

"And who this boy might be, Benjen?" Jaime asked with a frown on his face.

Lya scowled at Jaime for addressing her as a boy for the second time. She pulled her braid to the front of her body and pushed him aside as she entered his chamber. "I am a girl... _My father's-_ " She bit her tongue and corrected. "Lord Stark's second daughter, Lyanna Stark." There was a shining green apple that caught her eyes and she grabbed it to take a long bite of that juicy fruit.

"So... What do you want?"

"Why are you flooding Allara's chamber with unwanted things? That too using my brother as a messenger?" Lya questioned taking another bite to the fruit.

Jaime's eyes widened, but he appeared less annoyed than before. "Did she read my last letter?" He approached Lyanna anxiously. "Did she even open my last present? _I got a beautiful-_ "

"Brooch..." Lyanna ended his line while jumping to sit on the windowsill, that was too tall for her height. "A pretty golden lion brooch as a cloak clasp." She answered and finally her effort succeeded when she adjusted to sit comfortably.

Jaime gave a wide pleasant smile. "Good... She accepted it then."

"No... She didn't even care to open. So, I _did..._ See, I have your beautiful lion brooch." Lya picked it from her pocket and threw at him, which he didn't fail to catch. His face became long and dull same as Benjen's who tugged Jaime's wrist, with tired eyes.

"Jaime... I can't be your messenger, hereafter. Allara had never yelled at me, even once. For the first time, in my whole life..." Ben sighed letting out his grievance in being a mediator for them. "Forget it. Just don't ask me anymore to deliver your presents and letters." Jaime started brooding as he carefully analyzed Benjen's words. "Lya... Do you want to practice?"

"You go, first. I will follow you soon." Lya bit into the last flesh of the apple when Benjen exited the chamber. Lya didn't want to get involved in a lover's squabble but something was amiss. Her sister would never refuse a present even if it was offered by some poor peasant who gave his last share of honey. And her sweet sister had been avoiding Brandon — the brother who she worshipped as God, like a plague. Lya nagged at her sister for hours to tell the reason, but her sister wouldn't cave in. "Why are you making my sister cry?"

Jaime looked baffled, but no answer came from him and finally he landed himself onto a chair while struggling to decide if he was going to tell Lya the reason or not. "I am trying to make my amends but I can't even get to see her. How fair is that?"

"It depends on what crime you did to make amends. And how my brother, Brandon, got involved in all of this?" Lyanna was never interested to know anything about lords' and ladies' gossips and unwanted information. But this was her sister, and she had to know if this Lannister boy tried to misbehave with Allara. In which case, Lya could easily stab him with her knife that was tugged inside her boots, unaware but... first she just wanted to confirm.

" _Its-_ I took- _I-_ " Jaime leaned back on the chair and stared at the ceiling in frustration. "I was an arse to her, when she really thought nice about me. I was arrogant, _and..._ I hope she will forgive me before I leave the North."

"What the hell did you do?" Lya jumped from the windowsill listening more curiously to Jaime's confession but the boy didn't even bother to look at her eyes. Her sister snapped at Brandon, if he even opened his mouth to utter words and there must be some strong reason behind it, for Allara to go that mad. Lyanna was curious to know the details but to her disappointment Jaime just shook his head.

"I can't tell that to anyone, Stark. You can ask your sister if you really want to know but I doubt any lady would reveal that. It is not really a tale to gossip with pink women in feasts."

"Ugh... You both kissed. Is that it?" All the ladies in the whole of North, spoke only about the eligible men that they had an eye for whenever they gathered for a feast. All the stories of stolen kisses would be exchanged secretly for another gossip, which Lyanna hated the most.

" _What?_ No..." Jaime jumped from his chair and stared at her intensely. "You look more like Benjen than your sister Allara. Sometimes, I feel I am speaking with your brother. Are you sure, you are a girl?"

Lyanna gave a punch to his chest, making him to slump down to the chair that he was sitting moments before. "This is the third time you are calling me a boy. One more time, you tell me that, I will pluck your eyes out and feed it to the crows."

Jaime gave a muffled laugh in response. "Are you both Stark girls, master in punching men's chest?" He gave a feigned pain in response, while touching his heart. "Although, your punch is much stronger than your sister's. Better I move far away from you." That earned a proud smirk from Lya and when she tried to leave his chamber, he called from behind. "Will you help me?"

Lyanna tugged at her tunic thinking if she should help him. He didn't seem to be bad like the other boys. Benjen said he was levelheaded with everyone and bested whoever came to raise a sword against him in the court-yard. _How badly she wanted to learn in the court-yard, with Ser Rodrick's help?_ And immediately an idea sprung to her head.

"And what will I get in return?"

Jaime observed her coolly. "You can keep that golden brooch. _Or-_ "

"You can keep your golden brooch. I want you to train with me, for the next two days, before you leave Winterfell. Will you?"

A laugh loud as thunder filled the room before he calmed himself. "Do you think you will be able to even lift a sword in that tiny hand of yours?"

"Try me... and you will know." Everyone underestimated her, but she was better than Benjen.

"Fine... But will you make sure your sister hears me? I want to speak with her once... before I leave."

Lya scrunched her nose, unable to contemplate any reasons why her perfect-sister avoided Jaime but there must be some good reason for it. Yet, how did that matter to her, if she could swing a sword with the boy who bested Brandon in the ground?

"I will let you speak with her, alone. But I can't promise to make your amends." Jaime's smile vanished and there was guilt sparkling in his eyes, when it came about her sister. It was so sad to watch him that way. So, she patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. My sister always comes around. You should have seen me and her bickering a few years ago. _She always come back._ "

"But I won't be here, till she comes around. In two days, I will leave to the Rock."

Lyanna wondered if this was how love-struck fools, worried in their life. Gods... She was glad there was no such worry for her. "Yeah... So, we will make the best use of your time. Now, come to the Godswoods and we both shall dance with a sword."


	5. Wolf In The Woods

Allara pulled her complete waist length dark-brown mane to the back and tied it into a pony hairstyle that would be comfortable for shooting arrows. Wearing leather tunics and breeches was not her style, unless she trained in court-yard with Ser Rodrick. Her sister, Lyanna, had a meager interest in shooting, demeaning Allara by calling it a coward's weapon to play with. Perhaps, it was the truth but hunting required shooting. Not that she had hunted huge animals, as seeing those poor animals' life wither away was too heart wrenching but Ser Rodrick wouldn't let anyone near the horse, if they were not an archer. So, she learned it... as much it was necessary in archery. Moreover, hunting was not just about killing, it was a patient process in tracking the animals, in which she had expertise.

She tied the laces of her leather boots that covered till her knees and marched to the court-yard to vent out her frustration. Her fingers traced the beautifully carved dire wolf sigil on her long bow, made of elm wood. Nocking an arrow to the string, she drew the arrow, aiming for the target's bull's eye. Ser Rodrick always would tell her, _"Time and precision are the key to shoot an arrow, my lady."_ But she took her time, focusing so hard on the red circle in the centre, to make a clean shot. When she released, her disappointment couldn't find anymore deep cistern pit to sink, seeing the arrow plunge at the last circle of the board.

_Am I good at anything at all?_

She nocked another arrow which she possessed in her bow arm and aimed for the center but it only moved a few circles closer, nowhere near the target.

_I have been training at this for as long as I remember. Why can't I even shoot once?_

Allara realized in those many years, never once, had she hit the bull's eye. Furiously, she set her aim, and the only thing that prevailed in that yard was herself and the target circle. She heard no sound, and the world seemed still, when she released her perfect shot. And it missed. Had it missed like the first shot, reaching the edge of the board, she would have tried again, but it lingered on the thin line of the centre red circle, making her neither a winner nor a loser.

_"Pray, tell me, how you managed to kill all those deers, elks and boars, with this middling skill of yours?"_

Lyanna's voice interrupted her but Allara replied nothing to her sister's mockery, while she continued shooting with the rest of the arrows.

"What happened to you, Aly? You talk a little and share nothing with me. Have you forgotten me?" Lyanna asked in a low voice which trailed with pain, but that was the tone her sister mastered in, to get what she desired from Allara. "You have changed ever since that Lannister boy came."

Allara faced her sister with a frustration of getting reminded of Jaime, but she was not surprised to take a hint of a lie in Lya's eagerness. It wouldn't be a mystery to resolve if any of her siblings lied. So, Allara kept mum, waiting for her sister to get along with the act, to uncover the truth.

"I always thought, we both will be together, forever. Will you forget _your family?... your own sister?,_ for that stupid blonde head." Lyanna asked in a pitiful tone.

"Don't be a numskull, sister. I am not - ever - going to give up on you or our family." Allara chided feigning a disinterested smile.

"No... That is a blatant lie. When was the last time, you spoke with me?" Lya screamed.

" _I-_ _Yest_ _-"_ Allara tried recollecting the day that she last spoke with Lya. All she remembered was yelling at Ben, for bringing presents and letters from Jaime. Twice she interacted with Ned, who asked her about the details of the debt collected from the wine merchant in Wintertown. But she never spoke with Lya, and she avoided her sister for the fear of spilling that ugly truth about Jaime or Brandon. She didn't know which was more disgusting. "I promise you Lya... I never intended to be that way... It's just-" Allara paused thinking about all the times, Lya would console coming to her chamber at night, after a fight.

"You were the only person who I would seek in my hardest time, Aly. And to know that I don't mean the same for you..." Lya blinked her gray eyes trying to push a tear that was not present in the first place. "It hurts so much. I never even remember how mother looked like. You are all I got."

"Lya..." Allara felt like garbage for letting her little sister feel left alone and to know that she had thought Aly as their mother made her feel terrible. "I am so sorry. We are all we got. Tell me... What you want to know? Or what you want me to do for you?" Old memories of dressing Lya like a Princess came to Aly's mind and she let out a warm smile. "Do you want to dress up? Or Do you-"

"How about we go for a hunt?" Lya asked excitedly, while joy and victory had already replaced all the recent grief that had found a home in her face.

"But you never liked to hunt."

"I never liked to dress up either. I bore it for you all these years." Lya scowled making an odd face which sprouted layers of mistrust in Aly's heart. There was a grain of truth to it. Lya only wished to do, what Brandon and Ned did. She wanted to ride like Brandon and so, she became like one. Their sire, Rickard Stark, had strictly forbidden them from swinging a sword saying those activities would not suit a lady of noble birth. Lyanna found ways to defy it. But never once had her sister showed any interest in songs or dance or dresses. Neither did she learn numbers nor did she read books. Lya roamed only with a wooden stick in her hand.

"We both alone can't wander into the woods, Lya. It's not safe to do and Father had taken most of the guards out to visit the land dispute in the nearby mill."

The truth to the tale was, without Brandon, she had never ventured into the woods. She used to track the animals and Brandon would shoot it. That had been their partnership. Now... There was no way Allara would be able to look at Brandon's eyes without thinking of that whore or his naked... body. Allara's spine sent a shiver with that memory. She had been successfully avoiding her brother, for close to four days, and she wanted to stay that way for a while.

"Why do we have brothers, then?" Lya jumped in excitement.

"I am not coming with Brandon." Aly retorted and turned to aim at the target again.

_"Brandon is not the only brother you have, Aly."_

Allara bit her tongue hearing Ned's voice, and she couldn't control her surprise to see him waiting with a bow and arrow, as though already they had planned for this.

"See, I know what you would say. So, I got Ned and now... we can go for hunting." Lya jumped and marched straight to armory, probably to fetch quiver and bows for herself. Aly wound her arm into Ned's, observing Lya's antics, who was commanding orders at Benjen.

"My sister is extremely sad and I have no idea what the reason might be... or should I ask who..." Ned pondered scratching his trimmed beard. Ned was the miniature image of Brandon, but more polite and adorably quiet. He would write the tales of Vale, of the Royce lord he befriended, of the friend he found in Robert, of the food that he hated in the mountain, through the letters. _Could he even sense my worry, just by seeing my face?_

"How do you know?" She asked trailing towards the stable, taking the reins from the stable boy.

"That your lovers' quarrel is all about Jaime?" Ned questioned with a chuckle. Allara stood speechless trying to contemplate of why he would address her and Jaime, as lovers. They were anything but that.

_"Don't worry, Ned Stark... A ride is what required for us both to fix that small misunderstanding."_

Allara jumped hearing Jaime's voice behind, and she was stunned to realize, everyone had been cornering her coming from different sides, at the right time to force her to come for hunting. Her fingers flexed on the reins of the horse, when she glowered at Jaime. That was when she observed Lya, taking her horse, rewarding Jaime with a victorious smile. _Did he use Lya to fool me into this folly?_ Before she started to scream curses at him, he placed his hands on her hips, from behind, mumbling, "Let me help..." and placed her onto the back of the horse. Allara wanted to fight back at him, proudly flaunting of how she knew to ride a horse on her own and didn't require his help, but she was silenced by Ned's low growl that tried to intimidate Jaime for holding her. _Oh... Sweet Ned... He puts up a great show, but this is not his real face._

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—_

Jaime rode solemnly staring at the behind of the horse and its rider. Both had a tail, on them, and Allara's dark-brown hair ran below, tingling the horse's stomach. That shiny strand of golden hair complemented on the palfrey's red mane. He couldn't stop comparing her with that steed. Both were sleek and amorous.

_Why do I keep thinking about this girl, to this extent?_

Jaime tried to ignore and leave her behind, so he could give her some space, but her teary eyed face, kept haunting his dreams and she didn't even give him a chance to meet or speak. He had to coerce her sister, Lyanna, into all this ploy. Jaime couldn't even make sense of his own behaviour. Women swooned over him. It had never been this way, where he had to play tricks. Still, a part of him was amused to wait and win.

"The deal is done, Jaime." Lyanna moved her horse closer to Jaime. "It is between you and her, from now."

"And how is that a fair deal, my lady?" Jaime seethed. "You were supposed to give me a chance to speak with her alone. And... You bought your brother with us. That too... the most honourable one. He didn't even let me go near her. Now, how will I speak with her-"

Lyanna stared at him with icy-steel glare, making Jaime get alerted with whom he was speaking to. "And what matters will you speak with my sister, _that too alone, in the woods_...?" Her voice was crusty, trying to threaten him. "Make no mistake, Jaime. I am her sister and I won't hesitate to use my sword on you, if you even dare to hurt her. I fooled her easily because she loves me and trusts me. But beware that I am not here to entertain your conniving schemes."

Jaime pulled the reins of his horse, to a halt, taking a long unforgiving glance at the wolf girl in front of him. For the past two days, she drained all of his energy in making him to train her, promising him at each cut that she would make him meet Allara alone. Jaime hadn't thought of it as a waste of time. He felt alive only when he held a sword. Even though this girl was nowhere close to his skills but Jaime had to admit how much he underestimated the girl, just because she was a girl. If she got a proper training, she could become a knight one day.

"You do realize that I can cut you, even before you unsheathe your sword. Don't you?" He tightened his jaw, getting insulted and cheated _by a girl_. It was one thing when her sister, Allara did, which actually triggered something carnal inside of him but he hated to get mistreated by Lyanna. "And you don't even own a sword, for that matter. Now... You listen to me, wolf!!! I want to have a moment with your sister, and as you promised, if you don't let me be with her alone... then I will have to admit to her of your betrayal. I will spill the truth of how you traded loyalty for sword-swinging lessons with me." Jaime spun something evil in his head. "Or how you have started to take a liking for me and said filthy tales about her, in jealousy to me."

_"Liking for you?"_ Her eyes widened. "I never said filthy-" Lyanna paused staring at him in utter shock. He laughed finding her distraught face, that became pale in sadness. "One last time, Jaime. I will make sure you get your time but after that, the deal between us is done." She screamed kicking her horse towards her brother and sister. _"Filthy bastard!!!"_ Jaime could still hear her ramblings even this far.

As he trailed behind them, Jaime could not understand why he was becoming desperate to have a moment with Allara, who he supposedly hated in the beginning. What use it would be? Allara was beautiful — true, but Cersei was beautiful too. She was headstrong — true, but Cersei was headstrong too. What was it that made him to buzz around her, like a fly? He had attempted every trick that men used to court a lady, starting from sending flowers, presents and even walked by her chambers, hoping to get a glance of her. What Cersei would tell of all this? She would spit on him, calling him names, saying that a true Lannister would never accept the likes of a savage northern woman. Before he arrived Winterfell, even he thought the northerners to be nothing but savage lords. But, it had all changed after knowing them.

At the edge of the woods, he tied the horses, along with Ned, who patted his shoulder while ordering two of his men to stay by the horses. It was not a huge party, only four guards had accompanied them and Jaime had no great interest in hunting. It was a long and exhausting process, tracking the trails of boars and stags. But the killing part when blood spilled with guts falling out had always excited him. He could even feel his veins plopping out, for the picture of blood and blades in his head.

"Tell me about the woods in Casterly Rock, Jaime? What animals do you hunt?" Ned questioned eagerly.

"Mostly elks, which are a common sight... and sometimes boars. If you are lucky, lions will come across you." Jaime responded adjusting his long-bow by his shoulder. "What about this wood?"

"Stags are a common sight. But with wolves getting increased, father is worrying about the proportion."

"Why not kill a few of them?" Jaime pondered.

Ned was appalled, but he shook his head with a mild smile. "Wolves rule these woods, Jaime and we bear them in our sigils. It is not likely for any of us to kill them. It will be an ill omen to do so."

Jaime rolled his eyes, thinking how ridiculous their tales and beliefs were but he kept to himself, instead of pointing their old tradition. Brandon Stark might laugh and punch Jaime's shoulder for such remarks but Ned Stark was so stern and rarely smiled. Anyway, Jaime had much more important matters to focus on. And just when he thought about it, Lyanna was tugging Ned's arm.

"We should split up, I say. How will we hunt, if we scare off all the animals?" Lyanna pressed Ned.

"Don't tell me, you have taken a fancy for hunting, sister. I can't send a search party for you, in these woods, if you run away." Ned complained with a frown.

"I swear, I will be close to you. Perhaps, Aly and Jaime can go in separate ways. Our hunting will be very successful if we don't create a nuisance in the same part of the woods." Lyanna held a contempt for Jaime, even while pleading Ned through her eyes. Jaime forced himself to not look at Allara who had been throwing daggers at him, from behind, ever since Lyanna opened her mouth. But he couldn't hold and his worst nightmare came true, when he turned to find Allara, standing close with her arms crossed across her chest, completely aware of all his ploys.

"I am not sending them alone into the woods, Lya. Keep quiet." Ned chided.

"It is fine, Ned." Allara intervened. "We both will go around the lake, to check. When I come with Brandon, that is where we track first. You have to come through that way to leave the forest, anyway. We will wait for you there."

Jaime felt defeated. Why would she agree to go alone with him? If she would agree this easily, why couldn't she accept to meet him in the castle?

Ned frowned with a reluctant nod, unable to deny his own sister's request. "Don't go anywhere else. Stay close to the shore."

And with that Jaime walked brushing her shoulder. Jaime was tall for his age, compared to rest of the boys. And Allara was of the same height as Jaime, which happened to be highly uncommon with her family. He knew she wasn't muscular like Lyanna, which was required to throw weight around a sword for fighting. But that didn't make Allara, weak. She was slender and seeing her in a man's attire made her more womanly than ever, with all the curves and dips. She was tall... with perfect-fit shoulder, absolutely desirable... _for mating_. Why his cruel head would wander there? Was it because of the loneliness in the woods? Had he become so desperate being a long time away from Cersei?

Allara stopped on her tracks, turning with sharp mismatching eyes, that chanted a dark spell around him. He felt so familiar with those eyes, as though they had been watching him, for a long time.

"How many times do I need to ignore you before you take a hint, Jaime?" Her voice had an edge of distaste to it and Jaime bit his lower lip urging himself to not reply something ugly. "Haven't you done enough the last time? And now, you are using my own family in your games? What do you want this time, from me?" She howled while her fingers pulled the strings of the longbow, that rested by her shoulder. Her eyes were turning dark, the left gray eye always remained the same, but it's her right eye, which remained mostly dark blue, but it would go close to black when she was in anger or remain soft blue with her change in heart. Those eyes reminded Jaime of Tyrion more than Cersei. His little brother also had mis-matched eyes as her. _Why do I keep comparing her to my siblings?_

"I want you to forgive me, Allara Stark. I know my apology means nothing to you, but it is everything to me." Jaime sighed, realizing how for the first time, in his whole life, he gave a genuine apology to someone. His father, Tywin Lannister, would never forgive him, if he learned that his precious son apologized to a Stark girl. But Jaime cleared his throat and head, knowing he had to do this properly.

"Allara, I should have never taken you to a whorehouse. No proper man would do that to a lady. And I realized how much I hurt you by showing your brother's indiscretion, only after you compared him with Cersei." He looked down on his boots, wondering what his mother, Lady Joanna, would have said of all this, if she ever lived to see what had become of him. He didn't know an answer to it or he didn't even want to know about Lady Joanna. Her memories were getting foggy in his head. "I know how it matters to see the best in your family. Especially, with one's siblings. Trust me... I am nothing without them. They hold us together, when we are left alone. Don't they?"

Jaime's corner lip curved a little as he tried to wear a mask to hide his vulnerability, but he failed, when she spoke nothing in response. He felt so naked before her, exposing the hard truth through his eyes, telling a tale of how his father was never there to fill the gap of what his mother left behind. If Cersei was not there, Jaime didn't know how he would have survived those horrible days of being only seen as a prized heir for his father. The self-pity was allowing him to surrender to Allara's soft gaze, and he realized it would be easier for him to accept her brawling than to yield to her empathizing.

"I accept your apology, Jaime." She stated with an unmoving set of eyes that was transfixed on his own pair. "Let us hunt something, before my brother hunts us." And with that she walked slow as a cat, her eyes wandering everywhere into the woods.

_Do I need to feel disappointed that she didn't bother to pamper me into asking for more details? Isn't that how all ladies feel sorry?_

Although, a part of him felt disappointed, another part of him leapt and danced in joy, for finally finding a lady who wouldn't wail for all tales. Something was always pulling him closer to her. It was her haughty attitude which resembled Cersei, but there was kindness in her too, which his sister would never show to anyone else, except Jaime.

Jaime let out a long sigh, of finally getting over with this long awkward conversation that he was supposed to do before leaving Winterfell, and tracked her path. She had ample knowledge in tracking. She had already tracked the foot trails of a boar, and a buck.

"We better stay close to the shore, instead of wandering into the woods with these buck tracks." Allara said staring down at the footprint on the snow.

"It is a fresh snow, Aly. If we search further inside, we might be able to find it."

She played with a worn-out wolf brooch that was pinned by her chest and shook her head. "I promised Ned that we will not venture deep inside. If he comes searching for us, then he will feel very disappointed." Jaime chuckled unable to contain his amusement, and she threw a spiteful glance at him for that. "Spill it out. I can hear your voice already."

"Why do you always play being this perfect girl?" Jaime beamed seeing her get agitated. "See, I closely observed you for the past few days. You act like a right hand for your father. And your brother, Brandon, adores you, telling glorified tales about his marvellous sister. Look at yourself!!! Prim and proper at all the times."

She snorted a chuckle with a wry smile. "This is what I don't understand. _You..._ Jaime Lannister, who hate me, could see how much efforts I put to appear to be the perfect lady. Yet, my father never, once complimented me." Jaime stared at her with wide eyes of disbelief. "Oh... Don't pity me. I believe you have got worse than me."

"Worse?..." Jaime pondered as he walked behind her, who was tracking the prints on snow.

"Well... You can hide it all you want. We both are sailing on the same lonely boat, hoping someday our fathers will come look for us."

"Are you a witch now? Guessing my life, with mere words."

She let out a small laugh. "It's not so hard to guess. You are arrogant, cocky, brash and impulsive." Those words pulled the trigger for his anger. Instinctively he pulled her wrist to make her stop. In response, Allara gave a smirk. "Are you going to deny of any that? Your last act of chivalry proved what extent you would go to exact revenge. And I am sure, all of these directs straight to your father."

He was getting lost being close with her. Her teasing sensualized his dark soul. And she possessed an amusing scent, that was giving giddiness to his head. Somehow without his knowledge, his hand trailed up her arm, and he wished she wore nothing. He earned to touch her pale skin, beneath all those layers of cloth. Her eyes closely followed, where his fingers travelled, up until it reached her jaw. Sleek and smooth pale skin, welcomed his calloused hand. He was careful not to hurt her, when his thumb traced her red lips, which was glistening to welcome him. He wanted to take a bite of it.

All of a sudden, when the scent was spinning his head, she whispered, "Jaime... Don't move. It is the scent of the musk deer and it is so... close. We can take it."

Jaime stared at her in awe unable to understand how she was able to speak about a deer, at this moment. _Does she not want me, as much as I do?_ His ego felt bruised, and he instantly withdrew his hand, turning his head away from her stare. Allara didn't even bother about his wounded pride, when she started seeking that mindless deer in dark woods, while he stood in the same place dumbfounded of what had happened. She was waving her hand, excitedly at him, motioning him to join.

To clear his head, from the insult, he stood uninterestingly next to her, who had her eyes rested only upon that ugly creature.

"What are you waiting for? Finish it." Jaime murmured. She nocked her arrow, without even disturbing the surrounding wind. Jaime had hunted for his whole life, to know, musk deers were very sensitive to even the slightest disturbance, even though it was standing close to twenty-five foot farther. But she kept staring at it, in fondness. When Jaime nudged her elbow to release the arrow, she batted her dark eyelashes which was brimming with anguish.

"It is trying to attract its mate."

"Me and that buck have something in common then. Neither of us did a good job at that. Now shoot." He urged, but she rolled her eyes, without even slightest change in the tension of her string. She had strong arms to hold the arrow, but Jaime realized some ugly truth about her. "What was the animal you last shot?" He questioned curiously only to get no answer.

It took only a few seconds for him to nock an arrow to his bow, and before he knew, the deer laid dead on the ground, probably blood getting spread on the snow.

"Tell me that you have killed an animal before." He stared at her, in annoyance. She made no movement, giving only silence as a response, bending down to see her shoes. "Why do you hunt, if you don't have the stomach to kill?" He was probably wounding her pride, as he could clearly see her face becoming long. She deserved it, for seducing him and later wounding him. A bitter taste, still rested on his lips, and he thought for a moment to force a kiss on her. She wouldn't deny it, in the middle of the woods. Would she?

"Don't tell me the sight of blood makes you squeal. Have you ever learned to shoot in the first place? In which case, a girl like you, should have known to stay in that ice castle, knitting sweaters for men." Her mouth parted with a sad frown making even Jaime to feel sorry. He didn't want to hurt her. It was because of the rejection that he started spitting venom now. _I am Jaime Lannister._

Suddenly, he withdrew being close from her and walked towards that dead buck, to see his own work. His arrow had pierced the deer's artery by neck, taking its life without much pain. The scent was too strong around the animal, and Jaime placed his longbow by the red snow bed, when he tried to touch its skin.

"Jaime..." Her scream was of panic and before he realized what was happening, someone behind him was moving. "Jaime... Don't move." Allara's voice ringed his head, but his adrenaline kicked in and he turned around with his hand resting on the sword hilt.

A growl came out from that ugly creature, and when it moved forward, calmly like a hunter looking for prey, a chill passed through his spine.

"Don't make any movements, Jaime. It will not attack, if you don't-" Jaime knew he had to listen to Allara, but it was in his nature to unsheathe a sword, facing an enemy and before he knew, his sword was in his hand. And that already bleeding ghastly wolf, lowered its head, taking position to attack him. He could fight a wolf. How hard would it be? _I have defeated strongest of men, in sparring. It's just a wolf._

One leap of that animal was all it took for that beast to tear his tunic with its claws on him and his skills proved no use, when its canine teeth, sunk into the flesh on his wrist which held the sword. His sword dropped by itself and death was smiling at him, in the form of a wolf. When he knew his arm would be torn for its hunger, the wolf yelped with pain, and was thrown far away from him, as two bolts of arrows pierced into the beast's body, continuously.

He clenched his jaw bearing the horrendous pain, and within seconds Allara was steadying his shoulder, to rest him down. Her hands brushed on his chest, where shreds of clothes were hanging out.

"It is just a scratch here. It will fade away soon."

When her warm comforting voice soothed him, Jaime felt guilt gnawing at his chest for hurting her just moments before. Every time, he did something to her, with cruel intention, guilt ate him up thousand folds in return. She was examining his bleeding wrist and tore a part of her tunic, to wrap it around him.

"It didn't go too deep to have a lasting harm. But you need to treat it, before it gets festered. The Maester must have a salve." And when he gave no answer in response, she observed his emotionless face. Her hands traced his jaw, and with that one warm touch, he was lost to her again. "Are you fine, Jaime? You look pale."

He bought his other hand to rest on hers and whispered. "What have you done to me?"

She smiled and gave a mischievous slap to his cheek. "Some poison must have got into your head."

"Aye... My father always says, _A Lannister doesn't act like a fool._ It definitely is the poison speaking."

She laughed in response, and darted her gaze at that wretched beast, which was lying a few feet away from them. Her eyes were fraught with sorrow. "It is an ill omen to kill a wolf."

"I am quite sure my life is worth a thousand wolves like that. You can ask my father, when you meet him." It irritated him of her pity towards a senseless animal but he knew it was not in his rights to think that way. She had never killed even a deer before. "Aly... Look... One has to die for another to live." She nodded her head politely listening to him, all the while her eyes were set upon that wolf and suddenly she jolted.

"Jaime... It has not died. Look!!! It is breathing."

"It is whimpering, Allara." He answered annoyed with her insistence and moved closer, taking his knife in hand. "It is a mercy to give a clean death."

"No..." She shrieked pulling his wounded arm with a crease on her brow. "I can cure it. Please don't do anything."

She kneeled before that black ghoulish creature and touched its neck to sense its pulse. Suddenly, the wolf's head turned to her direction and instinctively, Jaime raised his dagger in defense. But Allara was calm and comforting, petting the dirty black fur of it with calm wavy circles.

"Something else has wounded it before it came here." She whispered, tracing her fingers along the fresh red marks on its face. "It was scared when it met you, Jaime. Wolves always roam in a pack. It must have lost its family."

"That something should have showed mercy and killed it. Now, you are going to torture it. Give a clean death to it, Allara."

"No... I will cure her and release into the woods. I will never let her die by my hands."

_"Let the Others take you..."_ Jaime and Allara turned to see Ned walk into the woods with the rest of the party. "I asked you both to stay by the lake." Ned paused on his tracks, his eyes, wandering towards Jaime, the dying wolf and the already dead deer.

"What happened here? Aly... Are you fine? Were you attacked?" So many questions were presented before them and Jaime answered for everything before Ned went to see that beast and stared at his sister who was having hopes high as a mountain to save that terrific creature, even though there was no chance for it.

"We can save her, Ned. I can take her to the Maester and remove the arrows. I was careful while I shot. I want this wolf, not to die in my hands..." Allara pleaded with tear brimming on her eyes.

"It is not a wolf, Aly. Its a direwolf." Ned sighed kneeling before the beast, checking the warmth in its body.

"But it looks so small for a direwolf." Lyanna intervened, trying to touch it carefully, with full of fear.

"It must merely be a two months old pup. Direwolves grow faster than normal ones. Look at this curve in its body." Ned was drawing a point with his fingers. "For more than a century, there was no direwolf this far south."

"We have one now. Before she loses consciousness, we must take her to the castle." Aly answered dryly.

"You must tell her..." Jaime whispered in his ears.

Ned was understanding when he placed his hand on her. "Aly... It is fine. Let her go."

Tears rolled down her cheek, and she stubbornly tried to lift the direwolf in her arms. "If you won't help me take it, I will do it on my own. Anyone who brings their knife close, will have to face me first. I will not be the reason of its death."

Lya said something to Ned's ear, and they all agreed to take both the wolf and the deer. But Allara insisted on carrying the wolf along with the guards and held its head, moving very cautiously towards the castle, not disturbing the arrows from its body. Jaime knew it was of vain. Now, her heart might break even worse having to see it dying.

When they reached the castle, she asked the guards to take it to the Maester's turret, forgetting about Jaime's presence or his wounded wrist. Brandon was all around her and was shocked to hear the tale.

"A wolf marked you, Lannister." Brandon said teasingly, before patting his shoulder.

"Aye... That it has done. Do you think the mark will vanish?" Jaime asked dryly, looking at Allara's behind, not remembering which wolf marked him deeper.

"Nah... It won't vanish, the mark is so deep. A proud tale to say in your cups, I say. You should stay in Winterfell, for a few more days for it to heal. Better go fix it with the Maester before my sister occupies him with that staunchly beast."

Jaime smiled cheerfully and walked towards the turret, to be close to her, with whatever remaining days was left over. His heart was swelling at the prospect of spending some time with her, even though a voice was screaming in his head to worry about Cersei, who would kill him if she ever learned of his feelings for this Stark maid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one curses me for bringing a direwolf or making Jaime's character this path. Enjoy the read.


	6. Dragon And Wolf

Allara hugged herself, rubbing palms against her arms to bring warmth, as she stared at the horizon, from the top of the cliff beneath that apple tree. The silver bed of the landscape howled with a chill breeze to soothe her spirit. This was her home. The snow, the wolfswood, the Wintertown — this was where she truly felt belonging. Inhaling the fresh breeze gave hope for her future.

The direwolf took meager steps, trying to gain its strength on its foot, sniffing the snow lazily. The Maester asked Allara to take it for a walk, to help it to regain its strength back. Her direwolf was saved from death but there were huge scars on the places, on its back, where the arrows had struck. If her direwolf started to hunt on its own, then she would leave it to the wild. For now, DarkWing belonged to Allara.

Strong arm snailed across her shoulder, in a warm embrace, and she found herself get alerted, until she found Jaime, stand arm to arm with no space left.

"Have you forgotten your cloak, my lady?" Jaime asked teasingly snaking his way down to her waist. "I can help you get warm." His voice was a coarse whisper near her ears.

Flush of redness tinted her cheeks, and she stiffened her body, when Jaime started to nuzzle into her hair. "Jaime... What is this?" She chided, trying to wriggle out, even though some part of her, wanted to get tricked that way. Allara was more than glad when Jaime gripped hard on her waist, not letting her go.

She glanced all around that vast emptiness, and when she was so sure that only DarkWing to wander in the snow, she relaxed her shoulder, propping her head on him. _Could she stretch this moment, forever?_ With him next to her, in solitude, with the heart filled happiness, staring into emptiness, everything appeared perfect. Jaime was perfect. Well... _Not exactly._ They both bickered and battled through words and glances, cursing and staring for every passing moment but he was still perfect, in her eyes.

"This is your last day, here, and you made me wait for almost an hour, now." She sighed tracing his calloused fingers that was set upon her waist. A week it had been, since they last came from the woods, picking DarkWing from the cold. Jaime's wrist had healed, and he was all set to go. She didn't feel positive about it. How she wished the wound was a little deeper, letting him stay for some more time? But all sweet things come to an end. Don't they? When her fingers rested on his healing scar, he forcefully caught her fingers to entwine with it. "We must leave, Jaime, before someone notices our absence in the castle." She warned.

"No... Not today. You said so, yourself. Today is my last day with you and I will not let you go." Jaime replied in a stubborn voice. He had become bold in that last one week, teasing and taunting her with feather light touches at her waist, shoulder and cheeks, making her get panicked. It was painful to be around him. Allara turned to face him. He smiled with a devious darkness dancing in his emerald eyes.

"You are incorrigible..." She shook her head, unable to bear him.

In response, he simply let out a mild laugh. "But... Seriously, I don't really know when we shall meet again. I feel something so strange inside my heart." Jaime's voice flattened as he replied. "I just... I don't know what I feel, Allara, but I am sure, leaving you, is hurting me. This will be goodbye. Isn't it?" He asked achingly, swallowing his worry, with eyes full of sadness.

"Don't be a child, Jaime. This is not a goodbye." She chided, slapping his arm, for creating a disturbance in her mind.

"Let us face the truth. One day, you will marry a beastly northern lord, and me... probably a Lannister Bannerman's daughter. And this whole fucking north, is miles and miles away." He sighed removing his hand away from her, repulsed for being close to her, as though she became untouchable. "I am so sorry. I should have not touched you, that way." He took a few steps back.

"Jaime... Tell me, you are not serious." She asked, managing to put on a smile, even when her head was exploding in anger. "Don't you really know, why your father sent you here?" She questioned taking a few steps forward, towards him.

"It has something to do with, some message, written to your father. About... I don't know. It was a sealed missive."

"Good Gods..." Now it was her time to look down upon him. "Are you this naïve? Didn't you even guess what was written inside that missive?"

He became alert and kept his furrowed brows knitted, trying to appear smart. "My father is the hand of the King and there could be thousands of details written inside. Do you think I have the privileges to know all of that?" He retorted, and she chuckled.

"So... All these days, you assumed, your father sent you, Jaime Lannister, his heir, to Winterfell, for delivering, new orders." It was too amusing to pull his leg. Suddenly realizing everything, he bit his cheeks and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I assume then it must be because he wanted me to get to know you. So, we are..." He asked in a doubtful tone.

"At least, you are not a simpleminded boy. Surely, you have got all that by yourself, after... how many days? Oh... Three weeks." His face was getting red in embarrassment and suddenly he was panting and moving like a restless hound. "How come you didn't even guess, when my brothers were teasing you. Or when they allow you to come and spend some time with me?" She asked anxiously and he let out a smile.

"I don't know, Aly. You know me. I am not a person of observance. I just thought, all your brothers are so coolheaded." He answered and sat on the snow below, resting his head on the tree trunk. Allara didn't doubt that. He was not someone to observe things around him. Jaime raised his sword even before opening his mouth to speak. Suddenly, he yanked her wrist from below, making her to fall across his lap.

She gathered herself, trying to compose her clumsiness, when he laughed. "So, I wasted the last three weeks. Had I known this before, I would have..." He trailed lifting her waist to adjust her on his lap, all the while staring at her lips. "I would have done a lot of things differently."

"Sorry, to break the news to you. We haven't even got betrothed and no... we are not going to do anything."

Allara felt a need to escape from being locked in his grasp. Her father hadn't mentioned anything about betrothal and the Maester informed her that Lord Rickard Stark was writing a response about the dowry. Anything could happen. Even betrothals get broken, and she was not ready to risk her name. It was a dangerous game to play, when she was the least liked for her father.

"But we will be soon. Right?" He asked eagerly.

"It depends on our fathers, Jaime. If your father agrees with the arrangement of the dowry, _then-_ "

"I will make sure my father agrees." He promised with a charming smile. "There are plenty of gold mines in the Rock and we Lannisters, are the richest house, in the Seven Kingdoms, right now. Even the Targaryens are indebted, Allara." He proudly answered, while pulling her close to his chest. But she felt repulsed. Somehow, she hated that answer, and the arrogance laced in it.

"You are a fool to think that your father will accept a bride who comes with no wealth." She spat back and pulled herself on her feet.

"Why do you spoil the mood?" His tone also had a gruffy edge to it. "Don't you want me, as I do?"

He rose to face her, with a brow raised up curiously waiting for her answer and she couldn't tell the truth. "We both serve our houses. There is no place for _'want'_ in it." She repeated what she had been taught, for all the years.

"I asked you a simple question. Answer me. Do you want me?"

Her fingers dug into the flesh of her palm, in anxiety thinking about her _want_. Jaime's fingers traced her jaw and lifted her chin to the level with his eyes. He was what all women dreamed about. Gallant, young, brave, charming — everything a lady could ask for, eventhough he had his rashness and bruteness which she came to like slowly. She sighed swiping his fingers away from, with a smile. "What happiness do you get in putting me in, such an uncomfortable situation?" He was reluctant to let go and so she answered. "Yes, Jaime. I want you, as much as you do."

"Oh, no..." He beamed. "You don't know how much I want you..." That smile was enough to get through his teasing. "I will let my father know that, you are the one I wish to marry. If he wants his heir to be married, then he will accept what your father proposes." And with that reply he pushed her flush against his body, which ignited something inside of her. A longing to be touched by him soon burned as fire. And finally, he placed a long soft kiss on her forehead.

"Once I become a knight, I'll speak with my father and come here to Winterfell, to taste that plump lips of yours and make you my bride." He whispered, and she closed her eyes in sheer shyness. His left arm traced her shoulder reaching till the tip of her fingers, and he lifted it to his lips. The intimacy was heart throbbing to bear, and she was having no wish to resist him. If he even kissed her then, she wouldn't hesitate like how she did in the woods. _Oh... How she wanted to kiss him._ He closed each finger, till he reached the ring finger and slid a golden ring onto it, that was carved with the face of a lion. "Nothing befits your beauty, Allara. Even this ring... but this is all I got. When you come to the Rock, I will worship you in gold."

She was so high on being too close to him with his scent. Everything about him was too perfect to spoil it by saying how she didn't care about his gold. It would only end up in argument and she wanted to give him a proper sendoff. It might be years before they meet. She wanted to treasure this moment. Although, she was a coward to give a kiss; she hugged him, close till she felt his heart beats through her chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I will wait for your letter. Don't forget me, Jaime." She whispered, earning a chuckle in response as he wrapped her tight.

* * *

_Eight moons later..._

The water simmered when he immersed to soak himself in those thick water near the volcano of Dragonmont. The scalding hot water was welcoming him with open hands. The Dragonstone gave him more comfort as a home, that Kings Landing, could never hope for. That city reeked of shit and piss, rotten and filthy, filled with the likeness of men like his father. _Especially his father._

_What have I done to deserve him? Why would the Gods take his whole family, in fire leaving the_ _dirt behind?_

_'Because there are no Gods, Rhaegar,' his conscience replied._

Yet, there were demons upraising both in the North and the South. If what he heard from Grand Uncle Maester Aemon was true, how could the Seven Kingdoms be saved with his father as the King? He swam in that hot lake, till his muscles relaxed and the bruises he bore from Ser Arthur's steel begun to feel soothed. For a moment, his heart ached for not having bruised by his wife, in a marriage bed and rather marked by steel. It had been almost six moons, since he wed the Princess.

Rhaegar should feel more than happy for marrying the Princess, Elia Martell, a beautiful woman, kind and witty. But soon he understood that they both were standing at the odd ends of the world. _Could that he blame her?_ She was normal, and he was... more than abnormal. He had come to accept the truth of it. Everything about his life was of pain. He ate his whole family when he was born, burning all the great men in fire. She hadn't seen death until recently when her mother passed away.

_How cruel am I to expect one to experience death and grief in their life to understand him?_

No... That was not what he wanted... He wanted Elia to be his Rhaenys. To ride with him, to tease him, to be playful and impulsive. Rhaegar would have bought the finest Dornish steed for her, if she was ready to go for a ride with him. He would have built the grandiose ship, to cross the narrow sea, and would have taken her to Lys, Pentos, Qohor, if she was willing to sail with him.

His wishes were wide as sky-bed to fly with his Rhaenys, but his lady-wife chose the company of the feather-bed to rest. He wished to show her the North, the Wall, and get the blessings from his Grand Uncle. He wished to show her the Reach, their peaches to fill the stomach and flowers to decorate her hair. He wished so many things to build a life with her, but they barely held a conversation.

_I should be content. She is not hungry for power, like Cersei Lannister. She doesn't have the thirst to control me. What more can I expect in a marriage, arranged for duty?_

He leaned on the rocks next to him and absorbed the heat passing through his skin. It tingled his muscles.

_Fire... He craved for fire. He craved for passion in bed. He craved for attention. He craved for intimacy. He craved for love._

It had been months since they last shared a bed. If to be exact, they consummated their marriage, only twice, yet somehow he managed to give bruises to her delicate skin. He didn't intend to. He was gentle and caring, but the tears that rolled down her cheeks and the never ending sobs, were haunting his sleep even now. Sometimes, Rhaegar wondered if he was turning out to be like his mad father, for making his sweet wife cry in their marriage bed.

When the Maester declared she was carrying his child, Rhaegar felt more than relieved for not troubling her in bed, in the name of producing an heir. But that lasted only for a while, until she started shivering every day, by vomiting and shaking, choosing to sleep and stay abed. Was a child worth all this pain?

Rhaegar painfully held his erect cock in his hand and stroke its length to forget everything that revolved around his life. The water was hot to arouse him and his hand was enough to satisfy himself. He closed his eyes to see a dragon soar through the sky. He believed the Targaryen madness to be true to an extent, for his mood swung to ecstasy whenever he dreamed of a dragon dancing.

The black dragon had scales dark as sin, same as Balerion the dread's, King Aegon's mount. But his dragon was not alone this time. He was soaring next to a platinum white she-dragon, with golden scales. Rhaegar increased his hand's speed on his cock, indulging in the desperate pleasure of seeing his dragon get a mate in sky. In what seemed to be a race, the dragons tore the air, skipping the clouds, roaring and spitting fire passionately, before his black dread dug its claws on the pale skin of its mate, overpowering the platinum-gold dragon's strength, before claiming her as his mate, by pushing her to the ground.

Rhaegar connected to his dragon as one, in what seemed to be an aggressive act of love, more than he ever felt belonged in this world, more than he ever felt satisfied in his marriage-bed. When his dragon reached its climax, Rhaegar was groaning so loud to wake the dead dragons from their death from those dark stones, and spilled his seeds into the streaming hot water. His dragon parted its claws, in exhaustion and the she-dragon, turned with its molten eyes blinking in fear.

Rhaegar wanted to reach for the she-dragon and comfort her. His black dragon moved closer till its nose nuzzled the platinum's head to comfort, imitating his feeling. When his dragon parted, the she-dragon's platinum pale head, turned dark as night. When he blinked, the next moment, he was stunned to see a wolf's head in its stead, with mismatched eyes that stared ghastly into his soul. The wolf's face was marked horrendously by wound lines, but there was a beauty in that beast.

A sudden splash in water snapped him out of his dream and Rhaegar slipped on the rock beneath.

"Fuck..." He muttered getting out of that hot water and dressed himself to come out to the cave entrance.

"Even the prettiest Lyseni whore, that I last fucked, didn't make me excited like you had, my Prince." Arthur taunted him with a devious smile. Had Rhaegar knew his friend would arrive soon, he would have preferred to not indulge in himself.

"It must be because you didn't pay your whore well, Arthur." Rhaegar tried to hide his blush of reticence when he took his black steed's reign. "Did you get what I asked you?"

"See for yourself."

Rhaegar pulled open the ties of the cover, that held all those gowns made of silvery satin with sleeves that almost touched the floor. "Elia doesn't seem to wear these type of gowns. Will she really like it?" Rhaegar often found the Princess wear bright colours that exposed more skin. She never wore something with this long sleeves.

Arthur chuckled. "What do I know of a lady's taste in gowns? You asked me to collect, and so I did."

Rhaegar sighed shaking his head. "I hope your sister has a good taste."

"My sister?"

"Yes... I took Ashara to the town, to help me choose something of Princess Elia's liking." Rhaegar replied wondering how easy it was to address even Ashara without title but not his wife. Arthur's sister had become one of Elia's companions from Dorne and she did everything to annoy her brother, throwing tantrums and mischievousness of all sorts. Even Rhaegar was exhausted to find the siblings bicker and banter at each other.

"I am sorry, Rhaegar. If it was one of her silly games... then I will pay-"

"Arthur," Rhaegar placed his hand on his friend's arms. "Don't insult me. You are not just a Kingsguard to me, Arthur. You are my friend and the brother that I never had." With that, unwilling to accept Arthur's glance at him that was showering new found fondness, Rhaegar rode his horse. "Moreover, Ashara is my sister as she is yours. Now, get on your horse. My squires will be waiting for my arrival."

Upon reaching the castle, Richard Lonmouth rushed to guide Rhaegar's warhorse towards the stable whereas Myles Mooton, walked along with Rhaegar towards the castle.

"Do you have any important information from the Riverlands?" Rhaegar questioned. Mooton was the house sworn to the Tullys, and he arrived just this morning. Ever since Rhaegar's wedding was over, he had been actively gathering information about the lords who would choose to support his claim to the throne, by using everyone he trusted.

Rhaegar could feel the Kings words burning his chest, when his father japed saying, ' _I wish the King's rights to the first night was never revoked. Who wouldn't want a dornish woman in bed?'_

Rhaegar desired to strangle his father's neck, accepting the curse of Kinslayer with no remorse, that day. Had his Queen mother never interfered, he would have gladly done everything to put an end to that monster.

"Lord Tully has promised his daughter's hand to Lord Stark's heir, Brandon Stark." Myles answered scratching his beard.

"With the Starks?" Rhaegar pondered. "When was the last time, the Starks married outside of their territory?"

"I am not an expert in their territory, your Grace. Lord Tully is a fool to give his daughter to a northern savage. The northerners are misfit to be considered even as a part of Westeros. They don't even have knights." Myles spat frowning in displeasure.

Rhaegar gave a knock on his squire's head and stared at him in disbelief. "Being a knight is not enough to be great. You haven't even earned one." He cursed. "Just because their customs are different, it doesn't make them savages."

Richard laughed from behind, seeing his friend getting punished.

"You have the truth to it, Rhaegar. Your cousin, Lord Robert, didn't stop ranting about his friend Eddard Stark, in his cups with pride and joy, when I went with my sire to attend his father's and mother's funeral. Lord Robert even declared that Stark boy as his brother, forgetting his own blood, Lord Stannis, who sat next to him on the table." Richard said.

Rhaegar pushed open the wooden door of his solar and reached to the table which was filled with books. "How did my cousin meet Eddard Stark in the first place? Wasn't he getting fostered in the Vale?"

"It is where they both met. The Stark boy was also sent for getting fostered by Lord Arryn. I see a possible marriage getting arranged between the Stark and Baratheon."

"Robert doesn't have any sisters." Rhaegar cited picking up the largest book, containing the information of all great lords of Westeros and their lineage.

"Renly could fill that void." Myles snorted, but was rewarded by Arthur's hand to his head.

"Ned Stark has two sisters, I heard." Richard replied, jumping on the chair that was laid before Rhaegar. "Robert will marry one of them."

Rhaegar shifted through all the pages, tracing along the marriages that had happened over the years. It was a very boring thing to read, but too important to ignore. "So... If I am right, the Tullys, the Starks, the Arryns and the Baratheons have packed together through marriage and friendship."

"Lords and their desires have no end, my Prince. Lord Stark must have got some high ambitions." Richard answered dryly.

Rhaegar stared at Arthur with curiosity dangling in his vision, when something appeared so strange to him. He had been communicating with Maester Aemon for the past seven years, to learn much and more about the northerners, the wildlings and the dangerous things beyond the wall.

"Is there something of concern, Rhaegar?" Arthur questioned.

"The Starks never married outside, other than the one time, when Aegon the Dragon sealed a marriage between House Stark and House Arryn. This all seems too strange to be a coincidence." Rhaegar's mind wandered to the possibilities of something dangerous brewing in the North. With his father in the throne, he wouldn't put it past him. "What are the possibilities for all those lords to choose the _Mad King's son_ , as their next King?" Rhaegar addressed himself to be the Mad King's son, in hesitation, knowing the position he was in, currently.

Arthur stilled. "That will be treason. You are the rightful heir."

"What we are all doing here is no less than treason, Arthur. Overthrowing my father because he is not the right person the realm needs is no less than what they might be thinking about me."

"The rest of the realm stands behind you, my Prince." Arthur declared.

"I am not entirely sure about it. We need to be clear about the rest of the realm before we take our chances." Rhaegar answered but his attention was diverted when the door screeched open.

Lady Ashara stood by the door, with a wide smile. "May I come in, my Prince?" She curtsied in excitement.

"No... You may not. What have I said about knocking before entering? You should not disturb anyone in this castle." Arthur chided his sister. But Rhaegar observed his squires' opened jaws, looking at the pretty girl, with purple eyes. He cleared his throat to warn them, unwilling to let them indulge in fantasies of his friend's sister. They both diverted their attention and planted their gazes somewhere to the ceiling as he walked towards the door.

"Let it go, Arthur." Rhaegar walked past his friend, picking those long gowns in hand. Ashara's eyes went wide in curiosity and he handed those silks to her, as they both took a walk to Elia's chamber, whilst his head was filled with worries.

"You seem so lost, my Prince. Is it because of what those dumb squires of yours, spoke about?" Ashara commented with a smile. Arthur's sister had this strange quirkiness about her that made Arthur himself, lose patience at times. But Rhaegar felt quite relaxed in her company.

"They really can't make me get anger. But you are right, they aren't the brightest lads." Rhaegar turned to her side. "You are from Dorne, the southern most Kingdom. Tell me what do you think about the North?"

"Snow..." Ashara responded jumping on her feet. "They say it snows even during summer, in the North. Sometimes, in Dorne, when it rains, which occurs rarely, I close my eyes and imagine it as snow. They even tell that the Starks live in snow castle, and that they are the kin to the monsters and grumkins, from beyond the Wall."

Rhaegar sighed raising his brow and shook his head. "Strange tales, strange place and strange people. Aren't they?"

"I like strange things." She answered peeling out the dress cover, as they entered Elia's chamber. "Oh... The seamstress has managed to stich it all in perfection." Ashara exclaimed while holding the dress in front of her own body. She shrieked in excitement and ran to his wife, who was lying on her back, pressed against layers of pillows for support. "Princess Elia... Look at these, silks. They are splendid with pearls. Aren't they?"

Elia gave a sweet smile and ran her fingers along the length of the long gown. "They are fine... You can wear it, Ashara. Pearls and satin doesn't suit my skin."

Rhaegar felt his heart sink so low, for not asking her what she would have preferred to wear. "I am sorry, my lady. I had no knowledge of it." He apologized pulling the chair next to her, to sit beside. In response, she gave a weary tired smile.

"I am in no state to decorate myself with fine dresses, my Prince. I must be the one to apologize." Rhaegar's lip curved seeing her welcoming-smile. She was always cheerful, and laughed a lot, if she was surrounded by her family and friends. For the first time, he understood, he was not the right person for her. She deserved a lord who could jape aloud to make her laugh till her stomach hurt. But the destiny and duty desired themselves to be together.

"What do you like, Elia? Tell me. I will bring anything that you desire. You are carrying my child." He corrected. " _Our child._ And I want you to be happy."

She gathered herself to sit on the edge of the bed and pulled his hand to her swelling belly. He felt hesitant to touch her. Somehow, it didn't feel right to touch her body, even though he was her husband. "Do you feel his kicks? He is so strong, my Prince."

Rhaegar didn't even understand the state of bliss, when he felt his child's leg, pressing on her body. A sense of pride and happiness, swarmed in his head when those tiny paws traced her stomach. "She will be my Rhaenys." He answered realizing how active his child was inside her womb. She would be everything he wanted in Elia and all his worries would wear out. Their marriage might one day, become something greater than what it was now.

"No..." Elia answered in a painful tone and Rhaegar removed his hand to see her cry while tears rolled down her cheek. Suddenly, she pulled herself on her feet and ran to the privy, retching out everything from her guts. Her eyes were red and swollen and a pang of guilt punished his own stomach, seeing his wife suffer. When he helped her sit on a cushioned chair, Elia wept. "I want this child to be a boy, my Prince. That way I can be sure of giving you an heir."

"I will be more than happy if it is a girl, Elia. Please don't worry for this." He comforted, but she wept, till he consoled her by holding her shoulder.

"Will you let me go to Dorne and meet my family, before I deliver the child?" She sobbed holding her stomach.

"The travel might exhaust you, Princess. Why don't I send a missive to your family in Dorne, so they can come visit us here in DragonStone?"

"Doran will not be able to come. He can't ride." She worried wiping her eyes. "And I want to see him and Oberyn, before I deliver this child. If I die-"

Rhaegar wasn't prepared to even hear those words from her. "Hush now... The Maester said you and the baby are fine and perfectly alright. And why will you even think about death?"

"Its fine, my Prince. I have never been this weak before, in my life and I am not sure if I will be able to survive this. That's why I want my child to be a boy. So, he will become your heir." She said in an exhausting tone, that made him feel like a monster for making her to endure this. This was not what she or he deserved. How could he comfort a woman, who thought about death every day, carrying his child?

"We shall go to Dorne. I will also accompany you. Is that fine?"

She stared at him blinking her eyes to push the remaining tear out of her eyes. When she was shifting in her seat, he helped her reach the bed, and gently guided her to lie down. He sat there staring at her, with no words to speak. They both remained dull and dead, and finally when he tried to exit her chamber, she pulled his wrist. "Will you sing a song for me?"

A song was always easy, even easier than speaking with his dear wife. He nodded his head and sat by the harp, that Ashara brought in and sang a song, — the Jenny of Oldstones. Finally, when he desired for the long day to be over and when Elia slept, Ashara pried the harp away and took him out of his wife's chambers.

"Please don't be upset with the Princess. She is going through a lot due to this babe in her stomach."

"Ashara... Why would I be upset on her? I just wish I could change any of this. I feel insufficient in her life and more like a cruel beast to put her through all of this." Rhaegar replied wondering why there was nothing to give peace to his mind.

"No... You are not the beast, my Prince." Ashara assured patting his arm and taking him down the hallway. "Do you know, House Dayne has no beast in the sigil. Only stars that falls down." She spoke about all the houses and their sigils while Rhaegar focused on becoming a father soon in a few moon's turn and worried if really Elia's life would end. "The dragons for Targaryens, the lions for Lannisters, the wolves for the Starks, the bears for the Mormonts."

"What did you tell about wolves?" He questioned pausing on his tracks.

"Oh... The Starks have direwolf for their sigil."

Rhaegar left her in between, filling his head only with the memories of the dream he had while taking the bath. That way it was easy for him to shift from reality of possibly losing his wife, even before living a life with her. He was born killing many great men, and what assurance was there that he wouldn't kill his gentle Elia or even worse, his Rhaenys. He entered the library, searching through the books to read about the Starks, trying to make sense out of the dream he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit that the timelines are a little foggy and I didn't work on calculating days.   
> I am going to keep an open mind, to get berated for that dragon sex scene. It is fine if you all are going to spit fire because it was needed to portray Rhaegar's complexity and plot.


	7. Shattered Hopes

_Three months later..._

Quill curved on the parchment, as words spilled from her heart. A letter to Ned, enquiring about his health, and conveying that the courser that he loved the most, had bid its time on earth. The steady old steed was Ned's own horse, which he had to leave in Winterfell, when its strength had started failing for longer rides. Ned had a fondness to that chestnut horse, ever since a child and so, she arranged it to be buried in the lich yard. Without her brother in Winterfell, the castle was even more empty.

_How fast the time has moved?_

Allara giggled when DarkWing entwined around her leg, and she stroke the dark silky fur, beneath her wolf's neck, giving it love. DarkWing had grown magnificent now, in both height and weight, scaring all the maids in the castle but to Allara, she was the same little pup found in the woods. Men screamed in terror when DarkWing barred her teeth, but Allara had trained her wolf to never harm anyone. Still even her family had not warmed up to her direwolf.

DarkWing placed her head on Allara's lap in an affection that warmed her heart to fullness. _How could anyone_ _hate this sweet girl?_

Initially, her father was astounded to see a direwolf south of the wall and considered it to be a blessing from the Old Gods. But when he tried to get close with DarkWing, her wolf snapped at him. Not only to him, DarkWing was not welcoming anyone except Allara and for the first time, she felt someone belonging to her... _only to her_. Lya could have her horse and Brandon could have his sword, but Allara had a direwolf — the sigil of her house.

Slowly, Lord Rickard Stark started showing his displeasure at her direwolf, just simply because she was getting close only with Allara. And once her father had warned, "A wolf is no hound, Allara. And what you bought is a direwolf. These beasts belong in the wild. If you let it stay here, a day will come, when it will get a taste of your blood. So, let it go..."

With a heavy heart, and eyes full of tears, Allara had tried to let her direwolf go to the wild. But never once, her sweet friend moved an inch away from her. Even Brandon couldn't sway it away. Finally, her brother convinced their father to allow DarkWing stay, under one condition that her wolf would never be cared by the kennel master and the moment it hurt any men, her father promised to slit DarkWing's throat. Her she-wolf was proud enough to hunt its prey in the woods than to go for the likes of human.

"I should write about how much you have grown up, to Eddard. He will be surprised." Allara said staring at her wolf, who was trying to understand her words. "You were so tiny, compared to what you have become now, when Jaime and I shot you." She commented and DarkWing whined, as though she could feel the pain even now. Suddenly, all memories of Jaime flooded Allara's heart, and a mixed feeling of sadness and happiness creeped inside. When the gold ring shone on her finger, flashes of Jaime's golden hair crossed her eyes. "It has been more than a year, DarkWing. I wonder where Jaime is, now... Does he think about me as much I do?"

Her eyes landed on the quill and parchment, that was laid on the table before and Allara wanted to write to Jaime. She wanted enquire if he was doing fine in his life, as a squire. She yearned for one missive from him, in which she expected nothing more than two words. _'Missing you'_ — These words were enough to convey her that he still thought about her. But when was the last time any of her wishes came true?

Even if Allara wrote a letter now, she didn't know where she should send it. To Crakehall? To Casterly Rock? To King's Landing? Without knowing his whereabouts, Allara chose to rely on his promise of sending a missive, once he earned his knight ship and confirmed the betrothal with his father. Last time, when she enquired with the Maester, he said, "Bid your time, my lady. Betrothals will take time, to get confirmed. Don't worry... your father has been sending missives to the Hand."

"Come... Let us join the breakfast." Allara tried to push away all her worries and went to the Great Hall to join their siblings.

 _"Bloody Hell!!!"_ Brandon shrieked when DarkWing's furs brushed him. "That thing has grown more than half a horse. What does it even eat?"

"It hunts at night and brings some ugly thing to Aly's chamber." Lyanna interrupted as Allara took her seat by the table.

"Stop addressing her, as a _thing_. DarkWing knows you both are speaking about her and she is not liking your tone." Allara scolded and only then her direwolf became relaxed. "And she doesn't bring ugly things, Lya. She feels a need to share her hunt with me. We are close..." _  
_

 _"Ew..."_ Lya shrugged. "You have become a wildling, speaking about a direwolf like your family. Nan says some wildling women like you, lie with beasts at night and give birth to monster babies." Lya teased, while holding her stomach to laugh aloud.

Allara simply rolled her eyes, instead of answering to Lya's insipid japes and taunting laughs. But they were all surprised to see an unwelcomed guest join the breakfast, as her father pulled a chair next to Allara. Immediately, Lya's laughter died down and the servants started giving attention to Lord Stark.

"What is it about the wildlings you were speaking about?" Lord Rickard questioned staring at her sister.

Lya instantly defended, "I was merely mentioning an old tale that Nan shared with me, about how wildlings _mate-_ "

" _Connect-_ She was telling a tale about how some animals connect to their companions, beyond the wall." Allara interfered before Lya completed the uncivilized word, of speaking about mating of animals and human, in front of their father. But Lord Rickard's was impatient as he let out a insulting laugh.

"Don't listen to those ludicrous tales told by your wet nurse. These things don't connect. Animals are just animals." Her father mocked, staring at DarkWing with a frown on his face, as though her direwolf was some stupid creature, addressing it as a ' _thing'._ Allara felt an urge to break the plate that was laid before her when Lord Stark's eyes judged everything surrounding her and her wolf. "Aye... They are loyal... to an extent. But you can't control such a monstrous creature. When it sniffs blood, it will feed on it, even if you are its master. Farlen, our kennel master, will tell you the same. Your sister will learn her lesson when she gets mauled by this ugly thing."

"DarkWing is not a hound." Allara screamed with clenched teeth, as she twirled the spoon inside the hot-soup, staring aimlessly at the table.

"Pardon me, young lady... What did you say?" Her father's scrutinizing eyes pierced into her very being but she wouldn't cower when her wolf was being insulted.

"DarkWing is not a hound, father and I am not her master. She is a direwolf and my companion. She will never drink my blood or maul me, for that matter." Allara responded in a tone that she had never used before. For a complete minute, the whole Hall stilled bearing her lord father's glares, until Brandon disturbed the silence.

"Aly... Come with me." Brandon nudged her elbow but her father rose from his chair.

"Wait..." He stopped Brandon, while his own dark gray eyes never left hers. "Do you think this thing you bought from the woods, will never feed on your blood? Do you know what dire-wolves are capable of?" His questions were sharp as a slap and he was doing it all because she raised her voice against him for the first time and it had nothing to do with her direwolf. "Have you ever known wilderness, in your life?" His gritty voice sent echoes in the Hall, but she didn't cower. Not now...

Her father's hand went to the hilt of the dagger that had been placed by his leather belt, and he approached DarkWing. She rushed to her wolf's side, when she realized what he was about to do. DarkWing stood on its four legs, sensing her tension and its ear straightened up getting alert, but Lya held Allara's arms tightly, not letting her to move. " _No... Don't you dare!!!_ " Allara howled in anguish as her heart pounded against the ribs of her chest, in fear. But when her father gave no attention she cried, becoming the same weak person as before. _"Please, Father..."_

Her father's eyes measured her face a moment, before the blade slashed his left palm, and blood drops started kissing the floor like rain drops. Allara couldn't make sense out of what he was doing. Only when DarkWing sniffed the blood that was falling on the floor, and moved to lick it, Allara saw through him.

"You said it will never taste human blood. All it requires is a few drops, to shift its loyalty." He tormented her with words when DarkWing begun to ignore the blood on the floor, and lap on her father's palm, that was oozing with fresh blood from the new wound. "Tell me, Allara. Will it eat up my hand or not?"

Allara shrugged Lyanna's hand and shifted to her direwolf's side. Was he even a human to ask this question?

"If your answer is _'no'_ , and yet if your direwolf mauls my hand, then I will put that wolf to grave. I will have a hand lost but what better lesson to teach my daughter? But if your answer is yes, then there is no point in bringing up an animal, that you know one day will catch your throat." Her father's dark gray eyes had no emotion attached to his words.

"She is good. I will train her to never..." Allara cried knowing either way her father was going to kill her wolf. When Allara's fingers brushed her wolf's mane, DarkWing turned to nuzzle into her skirt, with love. "Please, father... I beg you. Don't kill her." She cried sobbing, while patting her wolf's head.

"Then you will get that thing removed from this castle, by yourself. I don't care if you will put it to your blade or send it to the wild. I will not see it from the morrow." Her father's voice was flat and even, with no hint of feelings laced in it. Her muscles tensed in pain, of being forced into submission. All she wanted was to keep the wolf to herself. Had she ever asked of him, anything, in all those years? Didn't she obey him and follow all his orders, without a question asked? Didn't she take care of him, like her mother would have done? And what did he give in return? An order to send her wolf away into the wilderness. That sweet little friend, who would curl up on her leg at night, giving warmth to her heart and soul. Her blood boiled for being always in his mercy.

When he was about to leave, in a bitter voice, she screamed. "Why do you hate me?" When she was sure her father stopped on his tracks turning to meet her, she yelled. "What have I ever done wrong, for you to despise me to this extent?"

"I am going to warn you, Allara, one last time. Don't you use that tone on me..." Lord Rickard shrilled. "Leave it here." His monotonic voice shredded her skin.

"No... I won't!!! I need an answer. I am done being invisible to you, even after doing everything for you and this family." She approached her father, without cowering. "Let me have my wolf. What difference will it make for anyone?" She stated with her head held high.

"Do I need to spell everything to you?" Her father shouted from the top of his lungs, and clenched her arms, with his bleeding hand. "For Gods' sake... First, learn your place as a woman." He bristled with dark eyes.

"Enough, Father... Let her go. It is my responsibility to send the wolf away." Brandon managed to calm the situation but her heart was bleeding.

"And what place have you kept me as your daughter? A servant?... How does any of this matter to me having a wolf? _How does any of this matter at all?_ " Her voice sharp as a knife cut through everyone.

"Have you ever seen any woman carry their house arms? What rights do you have to carry the direwolf of the Starks?" And with those last few words, her father destroyed the beautiful castle, that she had built over years, in her head, about him. "You will marry a lord one day and your children will carry your husband's arms. You can have my name but my sigil or its animal doesn't belong to you."

"What a vile man you are!!!" She spat back, in disgust. "I did everything for this family... _for you..._ more than Brandon and Ned could even dream of. I stood hours by your side, assisting you in all trivial thing. _And I don't deserve to carry the arms?_ " She seethed with anger simmering in the pool of her eyes and her father's hand clenched tight around her.

"Do you want to test my patience? You will not bear to see my wrath." Her father raised a finger and in anger while his fingers even more curled, and she flinched for the pain it caused.

It happened within the flash of her eyelids shuttering and opening. Her father, who was gigantic even more than Brandon, strongly muscled to fight with even giants was thrown to the floor, with her direwolf standing on the flat of his stomach, snarling at him, with barred teeth. _  
_

 _"No... No... No..."_ She leapt to pull DarkWing from him, while Brandon helped Lord Rickard on his feet. Her father apprehended everything taking his time and when she knew what he was about to do, she felt defeated and fell on her knees. "I will take whatever the punishment, you wish to give. Please, Father... I beg you not to kill her. I beg you... Please... I will take it..."

Brandon lifted her from floor by grabbing her shoulder with a tight fist and guided her towards the Great Keep when she knew everything was doomed.

"What were you thinking when you raised your voice in front of all staff and guards?" Brandon criticized.

"How different was it from what you have always done?" She questioned shrugging his arm away for not deserving any of this punishment for a crime that she never committed.

"You will find the difference when Father decides what to do with all of this." Her brother informed shoving her into the chamber and latching the door behind. DarkWing curled beneath her foot.

"I will not let you die... I promise." She whispered, curling her fingers into the wolf's fur, when light sparkled on the golden ring. Never she thought that the prospect of leaving Winterfell might excite, but at that moment, she desired for Jaime to come and take her away. _One missive, Jaime... Send me one missive._

* * *

_6 moons later..._

Jeyne snored so loud, shaking the bed that Cersei thought better to strangle the fat girl, instead of sharing a bed with her. Her father, Tywin Lannister, thought it would be better to bring the fat Farman girl and the Septa Saranella, as Cersei's own companion to the King's Landing. But she would be far better than to be with the likes of those lower than her for she knew one day she would become a Queen and being with fat Jeyne was not good for her status.

"Wake up..." Cersei pushed fat Jeyne and that little one yawned, opening her almost closed eyes.

"What time it it? Has the sun risen up, already?" Jeyne pondered.

"You insipid little creature... Give me those dresses that I ordered you to bring." Cersei hissed walking towards the reflection glass to adjust her golden locks. Wearing clothes of lesser women was an insult to her status, but she had to meet Jaime now and convince him. _The same way she had convinced the King himself to allow her brother to join the Kingsguard._

Had she learned the skills of how to pleasure a man and get things done, long before, she would have seduced to get Rhaegar into her bed, when he had visited Lannisport, for Prince Viserys name day. How different would he be from his father, the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen? The King had taken a liking for Cersei, ever since she worked on his cock, the same way that Dornish whore of a Princess had her way, to make her daughter marry Rhaegar.

When Cersei learned the news that Rhaegar wouldn't marry her, but instead that flat-chested Dornish whore, she knew something was amiss. And she had confirmed the truth of it, when she sneaked up to King's own solar, at night, disguising as a servant-girl to find, Princess Loreza fondling the King making him peak pleasure, while seductively asking for her brother, Prince Lewyn Martell to be added into the Kingsguard. 

Cersei had to admit that she couldn't make that stinking King to make such loud groans and noises, as that crazy-old whore, because of his dirty appearance. But, if she closed her eyes a little, even that Mad-King had a hint of Rhaegar in him and that was satisfying enough for her to please the King. The only thing that weirded her was when he screamed _'Joanna... Joanna...'_ every time he came on her hand.

Either way, the Scab King reluctantly agreed to allow Jaime join the Kingsguard and now, all she had to do was to make her brother agree. _Her brother was a fool._ But her own fool and he would fall for mere sway of words. That way, when her father, puts an end to that flat-chested Dornish whore and her new-born ugly daughter, she would marry Rhaegar and give him beautiful, silver-gold haired children. And also have her handsome brother, Jaime, by her side. She could have everything she desired. And if anyone crossed her way, Cersei would put them in their place, just like how she had put Melara Heatherspoon into the well, when that whore said, "I want to marry, Jaime...", gushing like a pretty maid. Cersei still heard her friend's cry for help when she had left her to die. _  
_

_Who wouldn't want me?_

Once she wore the servant's cloth, she left her chamber asking fat Farman to cover up for her. She learned Jaime had became a knight, not a fortnight before, while fighting against the Kingswood brotherhood and she had also learned more destructing news of the arrangements that was made for his betrothal, with a northern savage girl. She had to put an end to it, by making this all work faster.

Her golden-haired, handsome brother, was standing outside of Lord Sumner's chamber taking his watch, as she approached. Cersei had great admiration to her brother, because he represented everything she ever wanted to be. Her beauty could only be matched when she stood next to Jaime and even better if it was Rhaegar. Even though, it had been years before they both had their pleasure by touching and tasting each other, she still craved for Jaime.

"Jaime..." She called, and he blinked at her, unable to recognize who was beneath that cloak.

His eyes went wide and a smile of happiness, glowed on his skin, as he reached out his hand for her. "Cersei... I didn't-" He panicked giving her a hug, and she dwelled in that embrace. "What is this dress, you're wearing? And why have you come at this hour?" He asked parting from her.

"I wanted to see you, before all that ceremony that will happen tomorrow." She whispered and guided his hand towards an empty storage chamber next to Lord Sumner's.

"It has been so long, Cersei, since we met and I have terribly, missed you. Why did Father bring you to King's Landing?" Jaime asked in his longing voice.

She couldn't tell the truth that, it was to get her married to the Prince once Elia would be taken care of, by their father. That would make Jaime get distanced from her and she wanted Jaime as much as she wanted the Prince. "Because, I was miserable without you, in the Rock and so Father agreed to keep me by his side, here in King's Landing." Cersei lowered her hood and sat on the floor, feeling disgusted. There was not even a carpet in that dirty place which didn't suit her standard but there would be no place to go, if not for this, so she preferred sitting down.

She expected Jaime to describe how much he had missed her too and shower kisses of love to compensate for all those years but he smiled distantly imagining about something that she had no idea of.

"What is it, sweet brother? Are you blushing in longing for me, even when I am sitting so close to you?"

Jaime wrapped his arm around her shoulder and shook his head. "No..." He replied in a soft tone. "I was thinking about someone that I miss too." Cersei was his twin, and she could instantly feel in her guts, that it was about a girl. She managed to brush his fingers, in feather-light touches while turning her head to another side in an attempt to hide her anger. "Cersei... I have to tell about that someone, to you. Someone I met almost two years before. Gods... I can't believe it has been almost two years. How fast the time has run, right?"

"Yes, Jaime. And I missed you, every minute of it." She picked his hand to kiss his fingers. Cersei didn't want to know that her handsome brother had taken a liking of some lowly woman. Anyone who was not a Lannister, or a Targaryen could never be enough and Cersei wished to cleanse her brother from all those unclean thoughts. Her kisses crawled up to his arm and towards his cheek, until she pulled herself on to his lap, taking his jaw in her slender soft fingers, planting hungry kisses to his lips. Even though he hesitated to respond, in the beginning, she tasted him... and forced him to comply to her hunger, with the same fierceness he used to show when they were children. "This is how you should welcome me, brother." She whispered taking long breath. "And don't tell me anything about anyone, who is not us. We are the only ones that matter. Do you remember what we both promised each other, when our mother passed away?" She questioned in her dark sensitive voice, while his eyes never left hers.

"No matter what, we will be there for each other." He repeated those old words meekly, with a guilty tone and Cersei badly wanted to clean that guilt off of him.

"We came to this world together and we _will-_ " She paused.

"- _leave_ this world together." He ended in a hollow voice but his eyes were soft like mist struggling to give up.

Cersei would never bend down for anyone but if her brother was in the verge of escaping her claws, she would burn the whole world to make him surrender. So, she straddled sitting on his groin, pouring kisses down his throat. 

"Cersei, Please... Listen to me." Jaime parted holding her small waist, to put a stop on her movement. "Around two years back, Father sent me to Winterfell, to meet this girl. She is not like your friends, trying to climb up in status by seducing me." Cersei tried to hide her disgust, by forcefully pasting a smile on her lips, as she listened to her brother, praise the Stark bitch. "She is kind, lovely and genuine... I am sure, if you come to know her-"

"Would you leave me for some northern whore?" Cersei's voice trembled faking a painful tone, but Jaime's emerald eyes showed no change. "All these years, I waited thinking only about you, Jaime. I prayed to the Warrior and to the Mother, to send you back to me, meanwhile, you gallivanted the Seven Kingdoms, and fucked a wolf-bitch. Is this what I deserve?" Drops of tears rolled down her pale cheek, unable to even contemplate in her head, how he cheated on her, by thinking about another woman, that too a savage northerner.

"Its not like what you think." Jaime wiped her tears with his thumb and kissed her cheek. She knew her odds against that whore would be comparatively less in winning Jaime back. That Stark girl must have spread her legs to make Jaime feel so highly about her. Never had been a time, when Jaime praised some woman. "We didn't even share a kiss, Cersei. But I promised her that I will-"

"Promise?... What about the promise that you made to me?" She shrilled making him to mute down his voice while guiding his hands towards her big breasts, that he always liked to play with as a child. She and her brother were two sides of the same coin, born and brought up to give glory and fame to their father and they lived so attached, that Cersei could sense even the lightest tension in his muscles. "We both belong to each other, Jaime. That's how the Gods desired us to be. If we were Targaryens, we would have been married to each other. But we are not less than the dragons. Are we?" She raised a question, while unlacing the ties that held her gown together.

"No..." He answered while she peeled all the clothes that was sticking to her skin, to become naked. His eyes never left her curves, and those emerald eyes stuck to her round bosoms, that no man was able to escape getting distracted. 

Cersei wanted to feel him too. She would have been glad to give her maidenhead to the Prince, but, for now, it would be for Jaime. The male part of herself. She saw himself in him and had she been born a man, it would be just like how Jaime looked. She craved to feel her brother's length inside of her and the image of herself fucking herself aroused her core. That was how even the Gods must have planned by making them twins, to make love to each other, for no one could be better to even touch them. _Except the dragon himself..._

She planted her kisses all over his chest, which had hairs grown over that strong muscles. He was strong and she could already feel herself wet, to be penetrated by him. Slowly... Gently... Calmly, Jaime's hand grabbed her waist and travelled all the way to her bosoms, groping it, while her hands worked on the laces of his breeches to take his cock out, that was already hard as rock and started dripping with his seeds.

His eyes didn't shine in happiness and eagerness, as how her emerald eyes shone while holding his cock to feel his girth and strength. 

"Allara... Her name is Allara Stark, and I promised her to send a missive. If I do this-" His restrained thick voice was so feeble, in both pleasure and guilt. She bent down and leaned to catch his cock in her soft supple lips, bobbing her head, and he started tasting the pleasure. His loud groans were echoing the chamber, and he grabbed the locks of her golden hair. "Oh Gods..." He screeched.

She hollowed her cheeks to suck the tip of his length, while his face was flushed red, in excitement. It was time for him to take her before he spilled anything. So, she laid on her back, waving her hands to invite him. There was no more remorse remaining in his face, and she was overwhelmed to find her old Jaime. The same brother who would kill the whole world to be with her, crawled onto her body, with a new-found passion in him, as he worked between her legs, with his calloused fingers.

She was a moaning mess, when his fingers did its magic to make her wet as a river, and he adjusted his tip to her entrance, without waiting. Holding his weight on his elbows, Jaime leaned on her body and Cersei saw herself in him. She was delighted beyond ecstasy, as his length stretched through her walls, even amidst the pain of intrusion. Who could take her maidenhead, if not for herself? Jaime was her own other part and Cersei indulged in that pleasant movement, when he started to pound on her.

He was not timid and weak like before, chanting a northern whore's name. He was wild and beastly, clawing at her body, to show his power over her, as he thrusted. Suddenly, an evil thought spun in her head, when she restrained her legs to close around his shaft tightly, while he was reaching his climax and he flared at her in utmost anger.

"Who do you want Jaime? Me or that northern whore?" With her one eyebrow raised to curve, she questioned.

"What?-" He panicked, looking down at his immersed cock and shook his head. He tried to move out of frustration but she could feel his length throb inside of her and still didn't allow him move.

"Tell me now or I will leave you. Who do you want?"

He growled in frustration and clawed at her chin, pecking down kisses at her pout mouth and whispered. "You... Now spread your legs, sister."

In victory of knowing he would always be under her spell, she spread her legs and let him take control over her body, till he finished inside of her. When he rolled to his side, with sweat gleaming on his skin, she cuddled up to him, thinking of taking the moon-tea on the morrow. 

Even though, she didn't bring up the topic of asking him to take the white cloak, she knew in few days, if she visited him at night continuously, he would eventually adhere to her plans. Her brother was a simple-minded fool, and she knew how to make use of his vulnerability.


	8. The Pawns In Games

Standing all day long, without muttering a word, listening to weak men who could not even defend their homes and families, was not what he had expected when his father asked him to attend the court. Brandon brushed his thumb on the hilt of his long-sword, which had a wolf's head pommel made of moon-stone with bright red rubies for eyes, staring at him. Who would have thought that a sword which would gash and draw blood could be made beautiful? The sharp blade was his own passion, while the crown of moon-stone was the present Allara gave him, for his last name-day.

This was how they both were supposed to be. _The pride and beauty of House Stark._ Wasn't that how the people of Wintertown whispered and praised about his house? Why couldn't his sister see it through, and behave like the obedient, dutiful girl she should be?

His thoughts were drawn out when his father coughed and a servant bought a goblet of water. Lord Stark's eyes strained on Palla's shaking fingers, before he grunted displeasingly and waved his hand, rejecting the offered water. The maid was pale and shaky, as she rushed down to escape from his father's berating. She was the fourth maid who was replaced in the last six moons. Probably, his father wouldn't have preferred plain water but wine. _Or hot soup._ But who would drink soup while holding a court? Perhaps spiced ale was his taste. No one knew what his father preferred to intake at what hour and sometimes Brandon wondered if even his father was aware of his own schedule.

To whoever he enquired about, the only person they pointed to, was his sister. Brandon laughed initially, considering it to be some sort of jape, but every single fucking thing in this castle was known only to his sister. And last time, even Ser Rodrik, who father trusted with his whole heart for his dedication and sincerity, brought up his concern to father.

"Milady Allara is the jewel of Winterfell. It is not well to banish her from the court and keep her confined only for stables, my lord. Walder says she never allows him to groom or feed the horses and mules. Sometimes she takes a few for a trot, assisting the boy. I saw it with my own eyes. I know it is not my place to tell this, but do consider letting milady resume her old duties. We all miss her." The castellan of Winterfell had remarked his feelings over the situation.

Father hadn't responded to his loyal servant but simply hummed along hearing to what the household had to say, for none of them knew the exact reason why his sister was removed. What Ser Rodrick said was not the whole truth though. Father had ordered her not to come within the sight of him, ripping away all the duties she had been performing. It was Aly's own choice to tend the horses and spend time in the library tower with the Maester Walys.

"My house has been burned down, milord." An old man whimpered, allowing Brandon to bring his attention back to the court. "They say it was a forest-fire. But I ask, how snow catches fire?"

"What else did you lose in the fire?" His father enquired.

"I lost my wife, five years back to a fever, milord. I weep for her even now." The old man muttered, pressing his wrinkled fingers to those hollowed eyes, wiping the tears. "She came to work upon this castle once and told me a story of your little girl, milord. The one with two colored eyes and bright sun-shine hair." The man smiled, with wrinkles winding up his eyes. "Valla, my sweet Valla, sang a song about your beautiful girl, calling her the Old God's gift."

Brandon saw his father's mouth twitch in displeasure, and he was sure the old man was going to return without a coin for bringing up his sister's name in the court. Why wouldn't these dumb small-folks speak anything straight? If his wife was dead long before, why would he even bring it up to the court?

"I will send three of my men to build your house back, and twenty silver stags must help you get along with your life." Lord Stark declared.

"I still have blood running in my veins, milord. I didn't come here for a few silver stags." The old man proudly proclaimed, straightening his chest. "I came to get my justice."

"Justice?" His father's impatience was evitable through his voice. "I hope you understand, I am not in a position to arrest fire. All I can do is to offer you some help."

"But fire can't come from snow, milord. It is one of the Bolton men, who beat me up that evening, near the market." The old man shrilled. "It was 'em, milord. They promised to burn my home, and they did."

"And why would they promise to burn your home?"

"I caught 'em milord. They were..." The old man licked his chapped lips. "I caught 'em tearing the skin from ankle of a girl. She begged milord. Oh... She screamed for help, tearing her hair. I can still hear her cries for help. Those gutless monsters raped her and skinned her, milord. She was so young, same as your girl." The old man now cried with hot tears rolling down his cheek. "So young... But I was too late and too old to stop all three of 'em."

Once the old man started to blather, his father motioned his fingers and few guards surrounded the old man, holding his arm. "This will be enquired. For now, these men will find you a hut to stay and food to eat. Soon, you will get your home back. Leave."

Brandon felt his gut get twisted, especially when the old man mentioned the girl was as young as Aly. Somewhere, his heart pained to imagine his sister endure the same, and he instantly wanted to see her. As his father, emotionlessly continued to hold the court, Brandon slipped away, even when he knew his father's glares were throwing daggers at him, from behind. To hell with his justice and enquiry. He knew what his father would say. _"Boltons are not to be rivaled against, Brandon. We need them to be loyal to us and promising justice against their men will make them our_ _enemies."_

A true lord should plunge a sword in and rip the guts out to give justice, not measure the loyalty of his bannermen. Perhaps Brandon was never fit to be a lord. Allara had the natural ability to sit through those boring long courts and help his father. Sometimes, she even changed his father's judgement, by bringing some valid suggestions. But this case of Boltons was beyond repair, even for her. Even his sister wouldn't agree to this. But at least she would be able to endure this pathetic life, without complaining, unlike him. _And Gods... did he miss her?_ Had she not pulled that stunt, it would be her place to endure this hell, in his stead.

He remembered that day, when that ugly black direwolf which Brandon himself once requested his father to let it stay with his sister, lunged on his father, pushing him to the cold stone floor, as all the servants of Winterfell witnessed. Father had ordered Brandon to slit its throat. And as a good son, he should have done it, instead of choosing to be a good brother, when his sister begged on her knees with tears to let the dire-wolf live for one night.

_"I promise you, brother. I will bring DarkWing to you, come morning. Please, let me hold her for the night." Allara begged, holding his legs. She never begged... except for that staunchly creature and it was his little sister, who he himself brought up. How could he kick her away_ _when_ _her big childish eyes looked up at him with hope simmering?_

_"If you do any foul play by sending it away, in the middle of the night, I will hunt the whole wolfswood and kill any wolf that I lay my eyes upon." He warned knowing the wolf had to go after it threw his father_ _to the ground. A beast as mad as that had no place in a castle._

_"I will not dare to, brother." She sobbed, nodding her head and thanked, hugging in gratitude. "I want to hold her tight for the whole night, before I let her go. Just like how you used to hold me,_ _when I was alone and scared as a child."_

_Brandon could never forget those days and eventhough she grew up to be a woman now, she was the same little pup, who always used to hug him to sleep, when their mother had passed away. And so, he kissed her on the forehead and left her to bid farewell to that beast._ _  
_

_When the morning came, a surprise visit from a few of the lords from the mountain clans had put everyone busy and he forgot the execution of the wolf. The Flints, the Liddles, the Wulls gathered with a huge stock supply of cattle and lambs, shocking everyone with their arrival. The clans never lived in a castle and didn't train any ravens to send missives. It might be the reason why no one was aware of the sudden arrival. Brandon was delighted when he ran to the Great Hall to meet his grandmother, Lady Arya Flint, who had apparently accompanied with her family._

_When he reached the Great Hall, there was a huge chaos, and he heard loud bawling noises coming from grown-up, tall men. Lord Torghen Flint, his grandmother's brother, laughed roaringly with a horn of ale in his hand spilling on the floor, as Aly's dark beast crawled up to his chest and gave a lick to his beard._

_"Bloody beast!!! I wager you that this fur will make me warm even when the long night comes." Torghen commented and brushed the shiny hair of DarkWing curiously._

_"Don't speak crudely, Torghen. With one snap from my granddaughter's finger, your throat will be clawed before you mutter another word." Lady Arya Flint chided wrapping her arm protectively around Aly's shoulder. M_ _ore than Aly's presence, her appearance made him speechless. With two braids that ran past her waist, she looked younger like an innocent child. Sitting, prim and proper like a lady she was raised, in her white woollen dress, she appeared like a child goddess, with big mismatched eyes that stared at everyone, with charming naiveness._

_"It always wonders me, sister. How one of your litter managed to pop out a girl as beautiful as Allara." Torghen japed moving towards Aly, giving a peck on her forehead._

_"You lewd fool!!! Stop bringing your foul mouth anywhere near my little girl. Had my husband been alive, he would have knocked out two more tooth of yours like the last time, when you came to ask for Lyarra's hand." When Lady Arya ended, everyone surrounding cheered with thunder of laughter booming the hall, eventhough Brandon couldn't understand the reason. "For all the rigidness, and even after siring a boy of his own and taking two wives, my brother still craves for my daughter. You all have seen my daughter to know Allara takes after her mother's beauty and wit." Lady Arya chided looking at other men who accompanied them.  
_

_The crowd made of men wearing ragged skins and studded leathers raised their ale horn up above their head and cheered for the Flint Lord, but Brandon was getting uneasy hearing anything about their late mother or how other men courted for her hand._

_"Well, now that I didn't get your daughter's hand, why don't we make a match for my boy and your granddaughter? Donnel will take care of my fair lady." Torghen replied patting Allara's cheek, but before their grandmother said any word, DarkWing snapped at the Lord's arm, making him pull back his hand._

_"This time the wolf will take your balls off, Torghen. Keep your hands away from my little girl." Lady Arya yelled._

_"This is no wolf, sister. Its a direwolf. Even those wildlings didn't possess a direwolf in all the raids, when they came. Aye, some had Shadowcats, a few had dogs, some possessed birds, but none had a direwolf as big as this. All of them were skin changers."_

_"What do you mean by skin changers, Lord Flint?" Allara asked curiously, leaning forward._

_"They wear the skin of animals and go into their body. It started from the children of the forest. And the blood of first men that runs through your veins will make you a skin changer too." Lord Flint paused, observing Aly, tilting his head. "Have you done it anytime, milady? If so, then you must learn the rules too."_

_"No... Of course not. I was just curious."_

_When his grandmother gave a wary look at Lord Flint, as if Aly was lying, Brandon pushed past the crowd with a loud voice. "She will have no need to learn any rules, for the direwolf will be killed today, by my own sword."_

_Everyone shifted their gaze towards him and Theo Wull gave a warm hug and shoved an ale horn to his hand._

_"Come here, my dear boy. Tell me how many years it has been since we last met." His grandmother invited opening her arms and when he gave a gentle hug, she kissed him on his cheek full of love. "Your mother would have been proud of you, Brandon. You have grown up so well."_

_"Thank you, grandmother."_

_"And what is this matter of you threatening to kill that direwolf?" She asked, catching his ear, and twisting it to render pain. "Have you not learned the rules of our lands? What your father has been teaching you?"_

_When he was so embarrassed of getting humiliated in front of the people who he would one day rule, his father walked in with folded arms._

_"Has my goodmother came all the way from the mountains to accuse me of how unfit a father I have become?" Lord Rickard growled, but when his grandmother rose up from her seat and walked to him, a smiled crept up on his hardened face that lightened the whole hall. They both embraced each other with long-lost memories and when their grand mother parted, she looked at both Aly and Brandon with a sigh of relief._

_"They have grown up just like how my daughter always dreamed. You are doing so fine, my Lord. But only my granddaughter seemed to remember my arrival today, unlike you. And my grandson has forgotten our rules about killing a wolf."_

_"It is a direwolf, my lady. And my daughter is a dainty little girl. There is no way she will be able to control it." His father replied uncomfortably._

_"I can, grandmother. I showed you how she obeys to all my commands. You have seen it too. Please tell my father not to kill DarkWing." Allara interfered running to his grandmother's side and Brandon knew she had cooked up this plan the previous night itself, knowing she could always extract favour from their grandmother._

_"Where are your manners, Allara? Have you even started to interrupt when elders speak? Leave from this hall before my anger gets the best of me." Lord Rickard threw a venomous glance at his sister, making everyone become silent._

_"Lord Stark!!!" Lady Arya called with furrowed brows. "Don't you dare to threaten my grandchild. Have you forgotten the promises you made to my late husband when you begged for my daughter's hand or to my late daughter in her deathbed?" Brandon was astonished to see a woman raise her voice in front of his lord father. But instead of taking control of the old woman, his father cowered, bending his head down in shame. "All the girl wants is to keep that wolf to herself. Everyone North of your castle knows that it is a sin to kill a wolf. And you are trying to bestow that sin on my grandson. Don't all of you lords agree on me?" Lady Arya questioned and every single man who came from the mountains raised their horns to agree in approval. "Now tell me Lord Stark, what the direwolf had done to you that you want it gone?"_

_Unable to convey how the beast had pushed his father down, before of his own subjects who might consider that as an ill-omen, his father simply stared at Allara, who connivingly planned to go against his words and shook his head. "Nothing, my lady. If that is what you all wish, then the wolf can stay." He promised._

Brandon hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should really go check on his sister, but when DarkWing ran to him with head drenched with water and howled yapping, trying to tear his cloth, an alarm rang in his head warning about a danger and he rushed to her chamber.

* * *

_Early in the morning,_

"Corn... Corn... Corn..." The black little bird perched on her shoulder crying loud to her ear and she offered her hand with food to it, unable to bear the sound.

"Take it, you greedy bird. Always asking for food and grains." Allara chided.

"Food... Food... Food..."

When the door of the library opened, the bird flew to the rack of books and sat atop one of them. "Get down here and sit on my shoulders. Else, I will not feed you food."

As if it can clearly recognize her words, the bird came back to the same place putting its beak into its body to ruffle its feathers.

"Interesting, my lady." The Maester Walys stared at the bird in disbelief, shaking his head. "I didn't know you are trained in ravenry."

"I know nothing about ravens, Measter Walys. The greedy bird knows with whom it can play tricks to get food. Look, how fat it has become in the past few months."

"No, I don't think the bird stays with you because it cares about food. But if you wish, I can help you learn ravenry."

Allara politely refused, taking the book about dragons from his hand that she had asked a sennight back. "Whatever I learn is going to be of no use, if I am going to only stitch embroidery sitting in my chamber." Allara expected some comfort words that the Maester would often offer, but the man before her was silent, which was unusual. "What happened?" She enquired.

He pulled out a chair, motioning her to sit, and he took another opposite to her. "It was your father's doing. I have no hand in it. I promise you. He dragged the process more than it should be. Had he accepted the offer right when Tywin proposed, all would have gone smoothly."

Suddenly, her heart pounded against her chest, and she didn't want to hear what the Maester was about to tell. The last six moons had been a living hell, when she wasn't allowed inside the Great Hall other than to attend feasts. And she wasn't allowed to do the duties she always relished in, when her father refused to even look at her face. The only hope she clung to was Jaime. 

"Jaime will send me a missive." She declared strongly, unable to bear the thought of spending more days in the miserable castle where she wasn't welcomed. "He promised me. He will not forget."

"He won't be, my lady. The stupid boy decided to swear oaths to take the white cloak. I heard it from my close companions of the Capital. Even Lord Tywin is not aware of this and don't reveal this to your Lord Father, yet. Although, I wouldn't be surprised if your father will find it to be an easy riddance."

Allara stared blankly at the golden ring Jaime had given, unable to believe a word that the Maester spoke. "Why?" She questioned in a sad voice. "It doesn't make any sense. He said he will-" Allara stopped speaking when her voice broke, and tears begun to blind her eyes.

The Maester warily patted her hand that was on the table and flipped a few pages in the book about the Dragonlords of Old Valyria. "Mind is a fickle thing, my lady. And people oft change their mind when it suits their needs. I know you had a thing for that boy but I assure you, someone far better than him will find you."

She wanted to scream telling how she didn't want anyone other than Jaime. For two years, she had dreamed of meeting him and marrying him. Although, every time she had those dreams she was always beneath a heart tree, surrounded by a dragon. The same black dragon that would do so many vile and lecherous things to her, often greeted her in the dreams. Come morning, she would convince herself that it might be Jaime who came to her as a dragon and did those unspeakable things. But then Jaime was a lion, not a dragon. Perhaps this was the punishment from the old Gods to her for being impure in her thoughts and dreams. She didn't deserve Jaime, and it was a silly notion to think he might come rescue her from Father like all those knights in love with their lady.

"Who are you?" Allara asked, twirling the golden ring on her finger. "You have always been on my father's side and I know you wanted him to get the Lannister alliance. What are you, up to?"

Maester Walys simply laughed leaning back on his chair giving her an apprehensible look. "I thought you are better in playing games than your brothers or your sister. But asking so bluntly like that, will not help you survive in a southern court."

"But I won't be going to a southern court, anymore. Will I?"

"Probably not." He agreed. "My given name is Walys Flowers."

That piece of information was new to her as she never knew he was a baseborn Lord. "You are from Reach..."

"Aye... Baseborn son of a Hightower woman. Nephew to the White Bull. You must have learnt in your lessons about the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, by now." He leaned forward offering his hand to the raven which had corns in it and the black bird started to peck. "Do you think blood matters when it comes to place our loyalty?"

His cryptic questions started to trouble her. What were his motives? Did her father knew about his identity? He primarily involved in all the decisions made by her father and she felt uneasy for the first time staring at him. "Loyalty? Of course it will matter. If I have to choose, I will always choose my own blood."

"Not me, though." He instantly replied. "My father was a lunatic who couldn't control his urges when he met my mother. And when she swelled with me, he left to do his chores in that damned Citadel. But my uncle took me as his own and brought me up like his own son. Now tell me, with whom my loyalties should serve?"

"With my father..." She replied with gritted teeth, evoking a thunder of laugh from him.

"With your father... Aye... But the man wouldn't listen to anything I tell, anymore. There are things happening in the capital, which will need immediate attention. He only wants my information but not my suggestions." He slammed his fist onto the table making its leg shake and she withdrew from that place immediately.

"I don't know what plans you are spawning in your head but if you do anything to destroy my family..." She warned unable to contain the anger witnessing his abnormal behaviour.

"That is not my intention and you know it, my lady. If anyone is capable of destroying your family, then it is your own father." He answered in the same monotonous tone, and she regretted for trusting him in the past few moons. "But you know that too. _Don't you?_ Look, what he has done to you. Sending you to settle in your own chambers to knit by the fireplace where a woman's place is reserved, while replacing you with your brother who is as worth as horseshit. Your father had to fire five stewards to replace your accounting works. Everyone in this castle knows your worth, but you are replaced, in the end."

"And you will be replaced too, if you don't control your tongue."

"Glad to be... But then how will your father get those valuable informations? My place is secure here, my lady, but not yours..." The Maester walked towards the door and paused for a while. "I have seen the way you look at your brother with hatred and anger, as though he snatched everything that you deserved. And I understand where that anger stems from. But it's nothing to do with your brother but your father. Everything you lost, including Jaime, is all because of your father."

Guilt of being confronted by a near stranger of how she started detesting Brandon, the brother she loved more than her father, began to eat her conscience. Allara tried her best to not turn into such a scornful, spiteful woman, but how could she feel nothing when Brandon was replaced in every aspect of her life?

And when the Maester left from the tower something surged through her chest in pain, and all she could remember was Jaime. Did the Maester's words have truth to it? How did it matter if Jaime himself offered to take the white cloak? Out of nowhere she started sobbing like a foolish girl who had hopes of getting married to Jaime and be far away from her father's clutches. And what was the Maester plotting along with his uncle from the Kingsguard? More importantly what was her father's plot?

She ran to her chamber unable to contain all those tears and fell on her bed, in anger more than sorrow. Her father despised her existence, Brandon was always scowling at her, Jaime rejected her and yet everyone who visited the castle praised her bewitching beauty to make men fall to her leg. It would be better to get lost under DarkWing's skin. She had learned a few rules of skin changing from the Flint Lord, eventhough she never admitted of doing that. And whenever she slipped under her wolf's skin, she felt powerful and in control of the chaotic world which felt distant in her head.

When Allara slipped she went for hunting, fighting away a pack of wolves after successfully killing a boar. The taste of blood was sweet, while the memories and pain of her real life faded into extinction. For a fine moment, she wished to walk into her father's chamber and rip off his throat too, for discarding her like a piece of trash and taking away everything that mattered. Suddenly that idea made more sense, and she ran on her four legs back to the castle, unable to control the madness in her mind when the picture of seeing her father dead gave a satisfaction of drinking thousand boars' blood.

A chill passed down her spine, and she woke up from her slumber and felt disgusted of even thinking evil to her own blood.

_What has become of me? I never even dared to kill a deer, but now... I am ready to taste my own father's blood that too brutally. Perhaps father was right to not allow the wolf to stay. Or I am just a monster..._

Unable to control and contain all wild emotions, tears started to pour, and she felt so lonely even while surrounded by her family. The slipping into a beast, killing and tasting animals like a critter, delighting in the thought of murdering her own father and this spiteful jealousy towards Brandon, being rejected by the boy who promised to show her the world was too much to bear. If only Ned was there, she could have openly shared everything with him. Lya wouldn't understand any of this. With an urge to cleanse herself, she entered the bath chamber and immersed into the tub of hot water and rubbed her whole body till her skin became red, removing the remnants of her secret activities. 

She stared at the ceiling above and for a moment, a thought of ending her sorrowful life with no reason to look forward to the next day, emerged as a peaceful offer. When she closed her eyes trying to remember her mother's face, she found a woman, who looked like Lyanna crying holding her father's hand. Her father was young and charismatic unlike now, with no lines of worry on his face but he was hugging the woman. They were a perfect couple, and she left them to their devices walking away from that chamber.

For every step she took forward, destiny drew her down the spiralling staircase to fall thousand steps below. She was falling, into a dark hollow pit, where the noises of the world was mute filling the emptiness with a dreadful eerie silence, like the Winterfell crypts, where the Kings of Winter were buried, with their stone dire wolves guarding their tombs. Cold, dark things with blue frozen eyes stared at her, as she fell lower and lower, thudding against the cold ground. The chilled icy breeze from the Other's breath froze her body numb, and she screamed in panic when the monsters with a blue sword made of ice approached her, with a cackling sound.

Allara ran while her heart pounded against her chest, inhaling the cold wind which made her lungs freeze. Death didn't have that same appeal as she had a few moments before and she felt a need to remind herself that this was just a dream and she would be safe, when her eyes opened. But her legs failed, as usual. The cold was intolerable to move, and she slipped on the thin layer of ice, falling face first, earning another chuckle from another monster. When she flipped around, her heart raced faster while a thousand monsters surrounded her, who was on their dead horses or even worse, some were on dead bears and some had huge ice spiders that could eat five aurochs at a time.

" _Help... Brandon... Help me..._ " She screamed as the pale creatures neared her closing the distance but Brandon didn't come, instead the same stupid crow sat on her shoulder.

"Fly... Fly... Fly..." The raven whispered.

_This can't be real... Someone must wake me up._

"Lya... Please wake me up from this dream. I am so scared."She cried, but her tears froze when one of the creature climbed down from the ice spider and unsheathed his pale sword.

"Fly... Fly... Fly..." The crow pecked on her neck, bruising her skin and she almost shoved the bird away, before realizing some strangeness in that raven's eyes. It had three eyes.

"What the hell, are you?"

"Fly... Fly... Fly..."

"I don't have wings. How could I fly?" Her shaking fingers froze, but just so to show her how to fly, the crow launched itself into the sky, and the abandonment from the crow amidst that blizzard was painful than her mother's demise. When Allara stared at the sky, where the raven left, the tiny dot grew large and larger until it became a monstrous lizard with wings, spitting red flame to melt the cold. And she was flying, as the crow instructed, while calmly observing the disappointed pale dead faces of the Others, until another dragon chased her.

The dragons always scared her, especially the one with black scales as night. The monstrosity of the creature was proof enough to know how strong and powerful it was, but she found calmness being controlled by its claws. In those two years of dreams, she became fond of the black dragon even when it showed love in lustful ways. It was the only thing associating her to any form of love and when they were far away from the pale creatures, for the first time, she wanted to make love with that creature. But for some reasons her breathing became erratic, and she struggled to keep her eyes opened. Her lungs was filling with water and she realized that she was dying by getting drowned in the bathtub.

The black dragon moved in panic around her, seeing her struggle and it roared, in pain of losing its mate. Nudging its nose near her face, it started pushing her to wake up but she couldn't even move her arms. Her death wish was slowly coming true but the idea of being close to the person whom she loved made it easier, just like how she had found her father with her mother, in those dreams. 

_"Aly, Tell me, if I can come in. Your wolf bought me here..."_

When she heard Brandon's voice in distant, she wanted to raise up and tell him something but her body was immobile.

_"To hell with propriety... I am coming in."_

And within seconds the door broke, and she felt him lifting her from the tub, while shouting like a madman. _"What the fuck..."_ And she felt herself dissolving from the dream while the black dragon screeched, not knowing if she was dying or going to live. She knew though, as long as her brother lived, he would never let her go. And with a loud cough spitting the water that entered her lungs she clutched to Brandon's tunic and he let out a big gasp. "You scared me, sister. Gods... How the fuck did you drown in a damned bath tub?" He yelled, holding her shoulder straight.

When the chill air kissed her skin, she felt embarrassed being naked and understanding it, Brandon immediately pulled her out of the tub and carried her to the bed. Even though, he had given bath several time when she was a kid and they often played by the hot pool when they were young as Benjen, the idea of him seeing her grown up body felt awkward enough that she wanted to bury her head under any ground that she could find. He pulled out a robe from the cupboard and stood before her. When she dared to look up at him, she found his eyes trail on her naked form and she couldn't stop remembering the whorehouse where she found him a few years before.When she crossed her arms across her body, he carefully wrapped her with the robe and kneeled before her with a frown on his face.

"I... I slipped and hit my head. I think I passed out when I drowned." She blabbered so she could soon get rid of him from her chamber.

"I wish I could read everything that you think in that head of yours." Brandon said with a sigh and placed his hand on her head. "You know that I love you more than anyone, right?" He questioned and for the first time, she found something deeper in his eyes. When she was about to ask what he meant, he rose from the floor and left from the chamber. "If you could only be the same girl you were..."

And with that last line, she turned her head away, unable to contain the anger that simmered to get bursted. Brandon would never understand. He was just as controlling as father was and foolish... in believing she would become the same timid girl who never raised her voice.

* * *

"Rhaegar..." 

"Is he fine? Do we need to call a Maester?"

"My Prince... You are scaring us. What is happening?"

With sweat beads rolling down on his naked chest, Rhaegar opened his eyes which became red as blood from the dream and stared at Arthur and Elia who stood by his bed. With his shaking fingers that shivered for the cold, he instantly walked to the fireplace to get as much as warmth he could. It was the she-wolf. Something happened to it and he didn't know if it was alive or dead.

The dreams were so mysterious but it was recurring over and over, but this time he found himself in the dead cold north, surrounded by monsters.

"Nothing to worry about, Arthur." He whispered as his body shook for the cold. "Is there anything that you both want to speak about?" Rhaegar forgot to observe the silence that prevailed between them both while he immersed in the memories of what he saw in his dreams. Finally, he stared back at them both and Arthur bowed to leave from his solar, while Elia remained. 

"Is everything fine, my lady? Has my father troubled you, again?" When his real life miseries started to crunch his heart, he regretted of leaving Dragonstone. If Elia didn't persist on bringing Rhaenys to the court, he would have kept his little girl locked away in Dragonstone until his father died like Meagor the cruel, as the blades of the throne slit his veins. 

"No... I wanted to meet you, my Prince." Elia answered in a frightening voice which was so unlike her. The Princess might be very frail, but she was from Dorne. 

"What happened to Rhaenys?" He worried as all mad thoughts of his child being taunted by his father's insults swirled in his head. Rhaegar wanted to leave, immediately, when he heard his father dared to insult his Rhaenys, if not for his mother, he would have done the same. "I promise you, Princess, once we leave this foul city, I will remove my father and make you the Queen."

"A Queen without an heir." The Princess replied, and he frowned.

"Sorry for being crude. I am not following you. Viserys, my brother, will be my heir."

"And I am so sorry for telling this, Rhaegar. Your brother is not you. By all the accounts that I hear from the Keep, he is groomed by your father and is trained to grow up to be your father. If I don't give you a son, there is no assurance that Rhaenys will live under his rule. She will always be a threat to him and... we all know what happened to Rhaenyra." 

Rhaegar sighed, shaking his head, unable to believe he was hearing this from one of the women he valued in his life. He and Elia might not share any love that a man and his wife must share, but he valued her knowledge for all its worth, same as he valued his mother's but this sounded so nonsense to him, considering how she laid in bed for the last six months after Rhaenys' birth. 

"You are not making any sense to me, Elia. Have you forgotten that I know where your interest lie with respect to having sex? And more important is your health. You are the mother of my daughter. Do I need to put your life at risk, just so we can have an heir of our blood?" Rhaegar was unable to contain snapping out, while the clear memories of his wife and Ashara in the bed flashed in front of his eyes. Not once had he thought it was wrong, when he himself enjoyed in all the dreams. Moreover, it was with another woman and he found himself less guilty of straying away from the vows that they both took in the altar.

"This might not seem important to you, now. But, as a mother, I need to make sure my daughter's life is safe. With what your father said about her smelling dornish-"

Rhaegar flinched at the mention of that insult again.

"My daughter is half dornish and I am more than glad that she took over her mother's blood. My father is an insensitive, incapable prejudiced moron and I know that, Elia. I am trying to do the right thing but... this doesn't seem to be the right thing."

Elia smiled and hugged him to his surprise. He struggled not to embrace her back when she sobbed on his chest.

_She didn't deserve me... Perhaps, I should lay with her, so she will be content that there will be no fight for the throne._

When he closed his eyes wondering if he should proceed, he remembered his dream and the she-wolf he saw in his dreams. Had he never been immersed in that madness, he would have gladly done what a husband was supposed to do with his wife. But that felt cheating his soul mate from somewhere North. So, he patted Elia's head in fondness and replied, "Ashara might kill me, if she came to know that I took you to my bed. You better go find her, and I will take care of Rhaenys."

Elia stared up with pursed lip. "Do you not feel angered of what I do?"

"No... You are seeking comfort and as long as..." He paused, unable to finish the sentence. "To be blunt, Elia... Ashara doesn't have a cock for me to worry. And I am happy that you can at least find someone you love when I can't offer such a thing to you."

Elia's face brightened and with a smile she left his chamber when the sun started setting down. And far beyond in the sky, he saw a bleeding star towards the direction of the North. The bugging curiosity in him of what the prophecies spoke and how the dreams led him forced him to walk towards the library after taking his daughter in his arms, telling all the tales of dragons making her giggle and smile. The smile that never graced his face was so charming on his little girl.


	9. Exchanged Missives

The red comet left the sky bleeding, same as the way men bleed in their sword fights, when Ashara peeped through the tall wooden framed window from the Princess' chambers in the Meagor's Holdfast. The Maester Hake in Starfall, often fed her head with the tales of a bleeding star, which closely associated with the sigil of her house — the falling star... from which the pale white sword was made, called Dawn.

When she was just a girl, once she sneaked up her big brother's chamber, at night, and held that polished simmering sword in hand, which gave tremendous power to kill anyone who could cross by. Even for a girl who had no idea of how to swing a blade, it gave maddening power to begin with. But that night was a disaster, when the blade left deep cut to her palms, kissing its way till the bones, when her curiosity dragged her to test the sharpness of the blade.

The blade was too sharp and had cut everything it touched except its scabbard. Arthur happened to find her bleeding hand in the same red as the sky now was bleeding with, and he took her to the Maester. To the same Maester who said the tale of the bleeding star. _"A Prince would be born when the star bleeds, to save the Seven Kingdoms from a certain end."_

Ashara's heart bled the same red now, when she wondered if the Princess was making that Prince who was promised, in her marriage bed with the handsome most man. She knew this was a pettiness that lacked all sense of morale, considering they both were married before the Seven. But the Prince never loved the Princess Elia like she had loved. Rhaegar didn't sit by the Princess's bed, holding her hand and comforting her heart every hour when death was dangling after Rhaenys's harsh trial of arrival. He gave up holding to any hope that his wife would live to see the world when Ashara fed and bathed that beautiful woman, nursing her back to life.

She had neither equity nor privilege to make demands from either of them who she was supposed to serve, but her heart ached still.

"If the stars could burn like the sun, then I will be burned by your anger, Ashara" The Princess spoke from her behind but Ashara was determined to not show her face which was drenched with tears.

"What is a star before the glorious sun, my Princess? After all, I am just one of the thousands in the sky..."

Elia laughed, hugging Ashara from behind, with a light-hearted chuckle as an ending note. "You are not one among the thousands, my love. You are the bleeding star, making men to write songs and forebode the future." Elia's lips tasted her bare shoulder, and it slowly wandered to Ashara's earlobe where a whisper emerged as soft as the tulips that often grew near the river of Torrentine. "The common tongue hasn't got enough words to praise the beauty of this bleeding star." Ashara worries were momentarily dissolved into thin air, when Elia's teeth scraped her ear and a bite followed with a tug at the thin sleek red cotton gown from the frail fingers of the sun-kissed woman.

When desire took control of her body, Ashara let out a moan, leaning on Elia's chest, as the Princess's fingers played with the dark brown nipples that was in need of the Princess's touch. But the fresh wound of betrayal still festered in her head, and Ashara pushed away Elia's hand in a sudden movement while adjusting her dress. "Did the Prince not satisfy your tasty cunt, Princess? Or do I look like a bed-warmer to satiate your hunger?"

"You wound me, my love." Elia warmly answered with no remorse or anger. "If it gives you any consolation, Rhaegar refused to lay with me. So, that is there."

A part of Ashara's head jumped in happiness in having the sun-kissed beauty all for herself instead of sharing with the man the whole Seven Kingdoms dreamed of desiring in bed. But her curiosity got the best of her. "Why?"

"He said he doesn't want to anger you by taking me to his bed."

Ashara paced all around the chamber with a smile in feeling relieved and successful. At least the Prince had some sense in his head. "That's good. Right? It will be you and me, forever then." She ran to Elia and held her cheeks, offering a kiss that held all the passion of her heart. But when she parted, Elia simply shook her head. "What are you worrying about, Elia?" 

"I wish things are as simple as that, Ashara. Rhaegar is a kind and gentle man that we both should thank the Seven. If only Rhaegar was not a Prince and heir of this damned Seven Kingdoms, then I will sleep peacefully in this bed, cuddling you and making you whisper my name every single time you come for me. Alas, my mother's vanity bound me to the Prince, now I don't see a way to protect Rhaenys or myself, Ashara."

Ashara poured fine dornish vintage to the goblets while listening to the Princess's let out her frustration. "You were unbothered about the world in Dragonstone but now in King's Landing... you are worried to bones. I think it is the reek of this city that puts you one nerves."

"No... It is not the rotting city that puts me on nerves, but the rotting man who is sitting on that cursed chair. Look, Ashara... I love your careless spirit, but open your eyes to see what the man is capable of. He refused to attend the grandiose wedding, and I heard he hasn't left the Red Keep in years. I came here to let the realm know Rhaenys's place as Princess, but he refused to touch my girl." Elia fumed, swallowing several gulps of the wine.

"As long as you are the wife of Rhaegar — the crown Prince, I don't see any reason for you to worry. And your husband moons over Rhaenys like he is going to announce her as his heir." Ashara simply discarded Elia's fretting fears.

"That is the problem. This is not Dorne to let a woman inherit before a man and Aerys will be glad to remove me and my daughter when he learns about my health condition." When Elia ended with shivering hands, Ashara carefully let her sit on the cushioned couch, comforting her tender muscles in her arm, that was twitching in agony.

"Don't stress over this matter more than what it deserves, Princess." Ashara assured with a gentle smile and caught the Princess's lips with more fervor in the light of learning the news that she was spreading her legs only for Ashara. "Since when a Dornish woman cared about cocks... We will make Rhaenys be the heir to the throne when Rhaegar ascends." Ashara's hand traced the slender thighs of the Princess, rubbing it in the process, making Elia arch her back. But they were soon disturbed when chaotic arguments behind the locked door was heard and Elia adjusted herself before the door swung open and entered a blonde-headed girl.

"My lady... This is the Princess's chamber, not the Prince's and you are not supposed to-" Ser Oswell's arguing tone could be heard from within, while the blonde head, who stomped her leg in stubbornness entered gathering the ballooned skirt in her hands.

"I am the daughter of the hand of the King and I will check it by myself. And I don't have to listen to the likes of you, a mere Kingsguard..." The girl screamed and barged in the privacy of the Princess, who was as stunned as Ashara to see the scene unfold before her eyes. The blonde-head searched the whole chamber even without leaving the balcony that was facing the sea, when she finally approached Elia.

"May I help you?" Elia asked in kindness.

"You... helping me?" Cersei folded her hands across her chest where the clothes were forgotten to cover any modesty while revealing half her breasts. Even Ashara found it odd, knowing this was uncommon taste even to the Dornish. "You always need a servant to help you. Then how come you can offer to help me?"

Ashara lost her cool, the moment that bitch uttered a word against Elia, but the Princess warned through her eyes to not let out a word.

"I see, my lady. Then for whatever reason have you entered my chamber?" Elia enquired.

"I assumed the Prince would be here sharing the bed with you, but I guess it is very clear that he doesn't want to spend his precious time with a flat-chested woman." Cersei replied sarcastically, letting her eyes skim over Elia's body with a frown.

"Mind your words, girl. Do you know with whom you are speaking to? She is the Princess of Dorne and a royalty by marriage. Do you need to be taught a lesson of how to behave in front of royalty?" Ashara stepped in with so much control to not pull out those golden tresses that was tempting to be ripped away.

"I don't even bother to speak with the likes of servants as you." Cersei disregarded Ashara with a wave of hand and moved towards Elia. "I have been asked by my father to give a visit to the Prince, occasionally, and I heard that your last child birth was so tough... that it almost killed you. So, it will be in the best interest for both of us if you don't let the Prince visit your chamber." The smirk on that stupid blonde-head's face was irritating. "Oh... I forgot. I apologize. Once Rhaegar sees how I have grown up to be, he will never have a need to visit your chamber. Still, considering we both will be his wives in the future, we must be in good-terms, Princess Elia." With such a boosting confidence, Lady Cersei shook Elia's hand and left the chamber with the flock of hens she arrived with.

"Tell me, I did not just hear to that shit blonde-head speak that way." Ashara was stuck unable to contemplate what she just heard.

"You never hear what I speak, Ashara. This... this is what I exactly fear about. I know Rhaegar very well to know that he is passionate in anything he does. If Cersei ever finds her way into Rhaegar's bed, either through marriage or not, Tywin Lannister will kill my child and me to secure his daughter's place as the Queen. My mother did enough damage to slight the man and he will never forget that." Elia lost control when she threw the goblet to the wall in front.

"If this is all about having a male heir, then you must go to his bed..."

"Its too late. He really will not take me in." Elia worried her lips. "But I have another plan."

"What is it? Tell me... How to escape any of this?" Ashara asked.

"Let Rhaegar marry a woman who is not Cersei. We should find a girl who knows kindness to love my Rhaenys and Rhaegar too. My obvious choice is to let you marry Rhaegar, so everything will be easy. But he lived in one loveless marriage with me that I want to give him a chance for another one. We just need to choose the right woman." Elia decided.

"And how will you do that? Its not like everyone will be like Cersei to reveal their motivation so straight."

"We will know..." Elia promised.

* * *

Rhaegar stood in the Round Room of the white sword tower and flipped through the pages of the white book, skimming over the details of deeds and greatness of men who resided in this very place. Something about this elite force of white cloak never gave peace to his heart, knowing how they all were nothing but guards to all the evilness his father was composed of.

"Has my friend come to rescue me to Dragonstone?" Arthur enquired as he approached and looked over the page which Rhaegar was reading about the recent deed his friend was submitted to in the Kingswood.

"Do you see me wearing a white cloak, my friend? Rescuing a knight from his duty is not what I am entitled to, as a Prince. And it seems you have added another feather to your white crown in your last act with the smiling knight. My father will be glad to have your sword sworn in all mightiness." Rhaegar teased with a nasty taste, but Arthur simply shook his head.

"My loyalty is to no one other than you. You have my words on it." Arthur assured. Rhaegar felt great for that. Loyalty in the men he believed was the only factor that made him hope for overthrowing his father. A boy with golden hair emerged from the stairs of the tower with a long face and sullen tight lips. It should be Tywin's heir and son, Jaime Lannister, who was recently knighted by Arthur himself.

"Ser Arthur!!!" Jaime called. "Thanks for showing me around. I will strive for greatness just like you." The boy repeated with pride, and only a while later he observed Rhaegar's presence. "My Prince... Sorry, I didn't notice." 

"Ser Jaime, come to the tower on the morrow. There are things you must know before you consider on doing this. Will you?" Arthur questioned and Jaime nodded his head before taking his leave with no excitement in his face. Once the Lannister boy left, Arthur chimed in the details. "I don't know what got into him. After I knighted him, all the way till he reached King's Landing, he spoke about a girl he loved and how he was going to marry her soon. Now, he is enquiring about joining the white force."

The distress in hearing that Tywin Lannister's heir was joining the Kingsguard was alarming for Rhaegar to enquire more. But he left it there, unable to find a reason in his head for the boy to do it, and took Arthur to the garden where his mother was waiting for both of them. The moment the Queen Rhaella saw them approaching, she gave a smile and opened her arms to welcome them both into her embrace.

"Can I hold both of you forever in my arms and never let go?" His mother mused, but Rhaegar shrugged away from her, unable to get embarrassed any more in front of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower. "And my son has grown up so much now that he doesn't even want to be in his mother's arm." She chided.

"Let him go, my Queen. You always have a replacement for him, in me. We almost have the same eyes and hair." Arthur proudly warmed up to his mother, earning a scowl from Rhaegar.

"That is true, but you are not Rhaegar's replacement. You are one more son to me, Arthur. I was praying to the warrior to protect you with all his might, when you left to the Kingswood in search of the smiling knight, to send you in one piece." His mother's voice quivered as she patted on Arthur's head. The immediate flinch in Arthur's face was evident that his friend was wondering about the failure in protecting the Queen from King, while the radiant lady was praying for his safety. Rhaegar wanted to run away from the ugly truth of growing up to be a useless son who failed in even protecting his mother, and something so dis pleasant started swimming in his head.

"Mother..." His voice strained as he placed her soft palms into his. "I am so sorry. Had I been a better man..."

"This is far beyond your control, Rhaegar. You both should stop worrying about the inevitable and pursue with passion where changes could be made." Queen Rhaella walked past the Kingsguard and took them towards the Godswood where no guards or extra ears were there to hear them, yet the Lord Commander's presence tensed his muscles. "Oh, I bleed like Queen Rhaena bled with Maegor. But unlike her, we are not surrounded with King Jaeherys or the good Queen Alysanne. Are we? We are the last of the dragons, Rhaegar, and when the hounds smell the rivalry, each will try to pick a bone from us."

"Mother, I think it is best to have this conversation some other time." Rhaegar warned, looking back at Ser Gerold, who gave nothing away in his face, but Queen Rhaella shook her head with a mild laugh.

"Gerold is on our side, as long as we don't openly ask him to carve out your father's heart. Most of the Kingsguards are. Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell, Prince Lewyn, will be in our support if they will not be put directly against their oaths. The only trouble is Ser Barristen and Ser Jonothor. Their loyalty is dis wavering that it haunts me if you should climb that chair, with their blood in your sword." 

His mother's blunt words made no impact on either of the white cloaks who were surrounding her, but Rhaegar was feeling more aware of Ser Gerold's influence in his mother's smile. He should be a better son and find peace in knowing his mother had someone to confide in. But he wanted to be sure of Ser Gerold's intention.

"And why should you trust him, when he hasn't done any kindness?" Rhaegar questions sharply pointed towards Ser Gerold, who sighed and whispered something to his mother's ear.

"He has done more than any man would put his family at risk. I was meaning to speak with you about this, ever since your marriage but with Elia and the complications with Rhaenys' birth made me to give time to fix your life." Rhaegar's face must have gave away how he felt about his married life that his mother instantly caught up and sighed with exasperation. "If Aerys had given me a chance, I would have..."

"This is not the time, Mother." He warned, not interested in wallowing in self-pity.

"Fine... Ser Gerold had his nephew sent to Winterfell, to serve as a Maester. And he has been doing a great work in doing what we are bidding him to. And, if you can convince the North to back your claim, more than half the Seven Kingdoms will be in your support." His mother finished shocking both Arthur and himself.

"My Queen... I am sorry to ask you this, but why do you think Lord Rickard Stark will back Rhaegar's claim?" Arthur asked in a startling voice.

"Because he has vengeance against your father. Have I said about the time, when Lord Rickard visited the capital to meet your father?" Rhaegar had no idea of such an incident. "It was when your father had no raging madness like now and promised to build another wall to prevent the wildlings crossing. But you know your father and his fickle mindedness..." His mother paused and stared at his purple orbs for a while. "That tale is for another time, my son. All you have to know is the Measter from Winterfell is helping Lord Rickard to tie up with other houses in the South, to form a strong alliance and the Lord has to choose you."

"Your confidence in that northern man, bedazzles me, mother. But I still don't know why he will choose me." Rhaegar pressed his question.

"The North has no interest in the crown or the South for them to have greater ambitions. And for centuries, their support in choosing the King always made a difference. When you call for a council to overthrow your father, you can count on all the votes through Lord Rickard. Do you remember Lord Cregan's loyalty for the blacks, during the dance of the dragons?"

Rhaegar somehow was not convinced with this plan, and he almost felt everything to be a trap. _We don't have dragons for any lords to bend their knees, Mother;_ he thought.

"So, a council then..." He agreed, but how to declare it without causing chaos in the capital was another question to him. "It should be done secretly, so all our heads prevail, yet every lord in the Seven Kingdoms should be invited so they can participate in the decision."

"You should call for a tourney somewhere far from capital." Arthur said after a long thought. "The King has refused to leave the Red Keep. So, a tourney will be the right chance to assemble everyone at the same place, without raising any question."

Rhaegar agreed with a nod, and they dispersed from the small meeting while he walked his mother to her chamber. _The dragons don't ask for the opinions of lower men._ The throne was his without doubt, and if killing his father would grant his ascension sooner, then there were many ways to do that too. But his father represented the unity of his family, and he had to climb the stairs of the throne without spilling his kin's blood. If anything, Rhaegar wanted to know the real reason for the North's involvement in this battle for power, and perhaps this council would give him a clear idea of it. Without any bloodshed, joining the hands with all the lords, the realm must remain united for the war that was about to come from the dangerous North and he was willing to explore at the risk of getting exposed to his father.

"You are not happy." His mother insisted in the secrecy of her solar. "I can see through you, Rhaegar."

"I was never a happy child to begin with, Mother. Don't fret over something that you have no control over."

Queen Rhaella shook her head, but Rhaegar could see how much of her health had been drained through all those miscarriages, and suddenly he felt like a child who held a new doll in hand, waiting for the arrival of his brother or sister behind the closed door of the birth-chamber. Before Viserys arrived, almost six of them had died and his heart broke every six times. Come to think of it, he realized there could be no woman in the whole world, as strong as his mother to do their duty, even after those many loses and a rapist husband.

"Every time I look at you, I see your great-grandsire, the late King Aegon Targaryen, the fifth of his name. And when you grew up, I begged for the Crone's wisdom to make you happy. I always wished to see you smile, Rhaegar and now I know I will never be able to see that." Her tears ached his heart. "I should have fought with Aerys to not let you marry Elia."

Rhaegar didn't want any information of their married life to be discussed. It was complicated even for him to worry about, and he wasn't sure what the future awaited for him. "Elia is fine enough to be a Queen, mother. You will soon appreciate that."

"Do you know her mother, Princess Loreza, was one of my handmaids, along with Joanna Lannister? Your father managed to take both of them to bed. And they both plotted so much to gain control through your father. Thick as theives. When I learned of their plots, I called them whores and sent away. Even after all that chaos, they secretly decided to unite as a single force against our family by fixing a marriage between their children. What I didn't expect was, the late Princess would scoop so low to sneak into your father's bedchamber to make her daughter the Queen." 

Rhaegar was beyond appalled to hear that accusation, and he inwardly regretted for ever being born to the man he called Father. "Elia is not her mother and tell me you don't hold any grudges on her."

"I don't hold any love for your father, Rhaegar. And I was happier when he took his whores instead of me. I certainly forgave my old-friends when they passed away. When you grow old, you let go of even the bitter past, easily." Rhaella pulled a chair to seat herself. "Elia may not be her mother, but she is also not your wife, but in words. Is she?"

The Prince didn't want to go there. The humiliation was so hard to overcome even before his own mother. "We are not speaking about this."

His mother scrutinizingly examined him and he diverted the topic, enquiring about the North and this Maester who was spying for his mother. Interestingly, the information excited his curiosity. 

"So, the Lord has two daughters and three sons. And one of the daughters own a wolf..." He enquired, unable to believe he was hearing about a wolf. His mother scuffed through so many letters from her desk and offered it to him.

"A direwolf, it seems. I have very little knowledge of that. If you go through these letters, you will know every detail of what is happening there." 

When he deep dived into a few of the letters, forgetting his mother or the world around, she offered a cup of tea when the time froze while he read every word written. And he was fascinated with this girl called Allara Stark, who was possessing a wolf with her. Finally, when his mother placed a teacup before him and ruffled his hair, he rose his head to meet her eyes. 

"Do you think I can speak with this Maester? I want to know about this girl."

"Which girl? The wolf one?" His mother's inquisition began while observing the curiosity in him.

"Don't do that, Mother. I merely want to get to know her. She seems to be something abnormal, like me... for a start."

"The Maester handles the ravenry and you can send a missive to him, with this secret code in the end. He will know for sure, that this letter is not forged. Who will refuse a Prince's request?" With that, Rhaegar gathered all the letters and walked towards the door. But something ran in his mind and he turned back.

"Why do you trust this man?"

"The Maester is Gerold's own nephew. Actually, Gerold addresses him as his own son. There is another problem of fighting against the Citadel, and we learned that from this Maester."

Rhaegar had known about the Maesters plotting against the Targaryens, and perhaps he should enquire about that too. "No, mother. I didn't ask about the Maester. I meant Ser Gerold."

"You know the reason very well, why I trust him." She said with a smile like a young maid in new love. It was almost adorable. 

"Do you really believe the North is in our hands?"

"Nothing is in our hands, son. But if they do anything to destroy us, then-"

"-Fire and Blood..." He ended without regret and exited the chamber reading all the letters and began to write down a missive to the Maester, enquiring mostly about the girl. What he didn't expect was a detailed response that he received within a few days, about this mystery girl and he would climb hills to know about this girl with mismatched eyes of grey and blue, who owned a dark direwolf with red scratches on its face that often came in his dreams. After all, he was a dragon, and he would pursue everything with determination, be it the Seven Kingdoms or a girl.

* * *

Allara finished the last page, with a beautiful art of green vines entangling each other, mimicking the sad song of the creepy vines losing its precious lily flower to a fair maid. The end was almost absurd considering how the vines soon fell in love with the fair maid and wished to replace the lily on her head to be always close with her. The bard must have been a loser to write such a silly song, but something about the vine was touching her heart.

"That is a lot of work to be in done merely within days, my lady." The Maester Walys stood with bulged eyes, appreciating her work but with a condescending look for straining herself.

"I am badly in need of that coin that you are going to give me, Measter. Of course, I will finish any of your work." She ignored his sympathy and took ten silver stags for copying the old song into fresh parchment with added decoration to entertain anyone who would read in the future.

The Maester went through the pages carefully and took note of her work. "This is a brilliant work. If you were in Citadel, the ArchMaesters would have used you left and right to replace all the bug eaten scrolls and might have probably ended your life there."

Allara gladly took that as a compliment with a smile. "That is an interesting way to go. I would love to be somewhere far from here. Even the prospect of Citadel excites me. With all those books..."

"Speaking about books... Haven't you been asking about _The Magical Mystery Of Dragonbonds_?" The Maester enquired, making her heart race.

"Do you have it? Will you lend it to me? I will certainly be-"

"No... I don't have it." Allara scoffed, unable to believe the man would lead her to only disappointment. "But I know someone who owns it and that person will be ready to send you the pages you require through a raven, if you ask for it."

"Who is it? A friend of yours from Citadel?" She started to draw out a parchment to write a missive of the chapters that might explain about the magical bond that made the dragons choose its raider.

"Yes... A friend of mine from Citadel." The Maester nodded.

"Can you tell me his name?"

"Just call him Lord Black... He likes that moniker." Suddenly, Allara let out a laugh, unable to believe the Maester was refusing to tell her the man's name. "Look, when we studied in Citadel, we often exchanged letters to secret comrades for moral support and for reasons of privacy, never once we used real names. You can consider this as one of such moments. Just mutual help to an unknown person who can be your comrade."

"That is so silly... yet fascinating." She answered composing the letter. "Then I shouldn't reveal my name either. My sobriquet will be Lady Gray." She wanted to enquire about the raven he would use for such help, but he soon informed how he trained one raven to send and receive missives to Citadel.

Within minutes of writing the missive she went in search of Benjen in the stables, who was ready, holding the reins of two beautiful red stallions in hand. Climbing with one push, by placing her foot on the stirrups, they started setting out of the castle with DarkWing by their side.

"So, what adventure are we going to do today, sister?"

"Hmm... I earned ten silver stags today. Do you think it will be sufficient to taste the fine new Dornish vintages? Didn't Rale, the wine-seller, tell there will be new arrivals?"

Benjen slurped his tongue in excitement. With no one to question her whereabouts or her presence, Allara indulged in few merriments the world offered by earning few coins from the Maester.

"The last time when we tasted two goblets of wine, the old man charged us with twenty silver stags. With ten silver stags we will be able to taste only one goblet." Benjen answered, counting through his fingers.

"One goblet is enough. The last time we drank two goblets, we needed Lya's help to get up in the morning." She remembered how Lya poured a bucket of ice water on their heads to wake them up. There was no way she would endure that pain. Her eyes caught the attention of a glass shop that dazzled with ornaments. She instantly got down from her horse giving a sorry look at Benjen, her brother of twelve name days.

"Why do you keep checking out that ruby pendent, if you are not going to buy it?" Benjen chided, holding her hand to a stop.

"To make sure no one buys before it is sold off. And it costs fifty golden dragons, which is too costly for my pocket. Had father only paid me for my services..." She sighed, signalling Benjen to wait outside, while pushing the glass door to enter. The shop owner was a middle-aged man of foreign accent who gleamed at her presence and offered the same pendant to let her touch its shiny edge with small moonstones arranged in a neat pattern with her fingers. "Splendid, work..."

"Not splendid than you, my lady. I could gladly give you for free... if you accept my offer. I will decorate you with all jewels, I own." He raised his brows, making her giggle. Wealthy men of all standards were wooing her ever since her venture out to visit Wintertown begun and it was interestingly admirable, but she had no liking to anyone and so she simply let them flirt.

"I will consider it." She replied and exited that shop, to move on to the wine shop. But her little brother was bothered and by the way his long face was more sullen to look at, she stopped him. "Spill it out, brother."

"We should buy that pendent, sister. I will work in any of these shops to earn coins for you. It hurts me every time you stare at that piece of jewel."

Allara's heart swelled with love, unable to believe he would offer to do such a thing. Most of the times, she had ignored his existence, up until a few days before, when he came to her chamber and enquired if something was wrong with her. While everything was going down, and her mind was screwed up, she never thought it would be Benjen who might understand that she was hurting because of Jaime's refusal to take her hand and father's mistreatment of her. 

Lya had said, "I always knew that boy was a bad seed. You shouldn't have let him take your heart. And father always took over your side. Be the least liked daughters, for once, sister."

She had screamed at Lya to never look at her face, but Benjen slept in Allara's chamber, consoling her through days, often taking her out for an adventure. 

Allara swallowed her hurting throat. "Do you love me that much, brother?"

"Of course, I do. You have always been kind to me. Do you remember the time, you saved me from the old Maester when I couldn't solve the numbers? I will do anything to see you happy, sister." Benjen said proudly, straightening his chest.

"But, I can't let you do such works that is low for your status. You can't spend your time cutting woods, when you should be training to become a knight. Not everyone gets the opportunity and when you got one-"

" _-I_ must make the best of it." Benjen finished for her. "I have a brilliant idea." He screeched. "The woods are reserved for our family hunting. Aren't they?" Benjen enquired with a curve along the corner of his lips.

She worried her lips, unable to choose if it was right for them do such an illegal thing. "Father's hunting party is almost always unsuccessful. Without Brandon accompanying them and my presence to track the animals, they often return empty-handed and buy the animals from market." She mused for a while. "With Brandon's help, we can sell the animals to the castle directly for a better price."

"Will Brandon help us?" Benjen questioned.

"He better be... What is the point of having him as our brother?" She stopped the horse to get down near the sweet cake corner, and took out those silver stags, offering one to the old lady. With seventy copper coins returned, she got four cakes that her brother loved the most, and they both tasted the sweet raspberry jam that was spread on top of the bread. 

"Gage doesn't add the raspberry jam." Benjen complained about their cook as they sat on a rock at the corner to savour the cake's taste.

"I am only good at tracking animals, brother. If it comes to shoot..." 

"I will shoot, sister. I am a grown up man, now. Can't you see?" She chuckled, seeing Benjen's arms. "And even if I miss, DarkWing will always be there for us." He feathered her wolf's fur, who became quite close with her last brother, unlike with the rest.

"Aye... We both are all set to earn few coins."

When she returned to castle, Brandon was the first person she secretly conceded about their plan to sell animals to the castle and how he must help. Reluctantly, he agreed in exchange for the information that she accepted to share about the missing files on the miller's lands. But he warned how the coins won't be enough to make fifty golden dragons. That was when she made sure to list about the furs and leathers that could be sold or the scent that could be offered for a solid ten golden dragons to rich wine owners in Wintertown. 

In a few days of enquiry, with a clear calculation, she came up with a plan to collect five musk deer, seven foxes for heavy furs. And if they managed to sell it, then that exotic ruby pendant would be hers. First of her own collection, from her own earning. It would be nice... but at the cost of killing a few animals. She mourned for a while, when the Maester knocked waiting outside her door.

"You got a response from Lord Black." 

A scroll was offered to her hand. It didn't have any seal to discover that mysterious man's identity, but when she opened the scroll, she would have sworn that she found a rival to her own talent. With a handwriting as elegant and cursive, each section of the tale was studded with amusing information, with added colors to differentiate the important details. And she swore her secret comrade was a brilliant artist to explain the story with images of fire-breathing dragons drawn on the side. But her frown expanded, when at the end he wrote personally.

_Not even the Gods of Old Valyria figured out the reason how a dragon chooses its rider. But it always is the dragon's choice, not what the rider wants._

"Is he for real? He could have just-" Allara stopped speaking when the Maester seemed to have already left from her chamber.

But she took a parchment to write another letter, out of pure curiosity.

_Lord Black,_

_You have broken my tall wall of my unsatisfiable ego, by your brilliant art of storytelling. I will forever cherish this treasure in my secret vault. Perhaps several thousand years later, the Maesters might record this as some silly tale of dragons told to satisfy the fantasy of babes at breast. But why should you be cruel to write such seven long scrolls of how dragons get attached to human, if in the end you have to deduce a simple message that there are no solid reasons for a dragon to choose its rider?_

_Is it to taunt my pride?_

_If that will be your reason, then with assurance I can promise you that I have been deeply wounded by your word play. The old Gods and the new will not take any kindness in you for hurting a lady of a weak heart who never hurt even a rabbit during a hunt. At least, so far..._

_Come to think of it, I don't believe your deductions, unless proved. So, let us say, we compromise considering there are no dragons to test our statements._

_-Lady Grey_

With amusement still tumbling on her lips, she drew small sketches of black shaded outline of a man, being chided by a long-haired grey shaded girl. Once she went back to the Maester's turret, she placed that missive near his table and went on to worry about their fifty golden dragons that required immediate attention.


	10. Return Of The Dragons

_Lady Grey,_

_Greetings from a poor soldier of fine literature and an ardent admirer of dark magic! I hope you are doing fine, considering how irresponsibly I broke your wall of ego by my indigent scribe work. Had I mentioned only that one line of how there is no way to find how dragons choose their rider over the seven pages, would you have responded to me?_

_That being said, I feel flattered knowing my work would be treasured in your secret vault. What I am intrigued about is to know the secrets that could be uncovered if you grant me access to your vault. I would leisurely investigate all your cache, like a child would open its name day presents. While we are on the matter of presents, I hope you receive the goatskin and the long bald eagle's quill that King Jaehaerys the Conciliator himself used to write the nature of dragons' bonding to support my theory. Add these to your secret vault, too._

_Unless proved wrong, I will climb any mountains to search for the fountain of truth, Lady Grey. And although you disapprove of my theories, I have a strange hunch that you resolutely believe in dragons and its return. Do you not?_

_And I wish you find your endeavors in hunting, unharming. Although, I myself never took any liking to see blood, sometimes we have to harden our soul for the greater good._

_~Lord Black_

Allara laughed hysterically, unable to believe the goatskin and the bald eagle's quill that she held in her hand was King Jaehaerys's. The echoes of laughter from the crypts rippled, striking every stone of the old Kings of Winter. She tested the authenticity of the goatskin, while sipping wine from one hand, lying on a straw mattress on the seventh level beneath the crypts with twenty incense candles surrounding her. 

Some dead old ancient King Brandon Stark was judging her innocence, perching on his cold throne with a stone direwolf next to him, as she giggled reading her mystery comrade's missive over and over.

_Who is this mystery man? How did he get access to late King Jaehaerys's possessions? Are all these even real treasures or work of some invalid scribe in Oldtown, trying to cheat me through false informations?_

Allara had countless questions that she needed answers for. But even through all her doubts, she was terribly impressed by this man's words. Perhaps loneliness would do such marvels to young minds. Or the incompetency in earning twenty gold coins, even after ten rides into the wood, killing so many boars, bucks and musk deers had made her a bitter person. Either way, sorting an invisible companion felt too comforting and amusing.

_Lord Black,_

_Never a Targaryen King's treasure has decorated my vault, and I am over the moon to receive your incredible present. Yet, more than the present and your presentation, your identity piques me, my lord. What dark magic arts have you scholared in the Citadel? Have you forged a chain of Valyrian steel already around your neck? I have a thousand questions and more to know about you._

_And yes, you rightly caught my attention by your one line deduction. Still, I refuse to accept your theory as even Kings are prone to make mistakes. My wishes of good fortune will stay by your side in your mountain climbing adventures to prove me wrong._

_There are thousand buried fouled secrets that stink in my vault, my Lord. I wonder if you would be really curious when you happen to chance by it. One such are my dragon dreams - scales black as sin, a monstrous dragon chase me in the cold lands. I endure a breathtaking experience in all those dreams that I often feel like I have been living a double life._

_However, they are nothing but dreams. And the distant wonderment of return of the dragons are left to Conclaves of your order to explore, which I neither share nor believe._

_But, if you have kindness and real dark magic in your hollowed sleeve, instruct me the ways to stop these dreams, for they consume half my soul. I will not accept dream wine and milk of the poppy. Even when I write these, I must confront to my secret comrade that these dreams gave me comfort at times of desperation. Nevertheless, I want to get rid of them. If you are an expertise in true magic, I will pay you a good gold coin in exchange for your service._

_My latest endeavor in hunting was not for any greater good other than my selfish wish to earn few coins. Yet, your words soothe my mind. In return for your splendid present, I affix this rarest copy of the history of First men and the Children of the forest, translated from Old Tongue to common tongue, by me._

_~Lady Grey_

Once she neatly rolled the thin parchments of ten pages of the history, Allara started putting out all the candles and walked relaxedly to the Maester's turret, in hopes of asking him to send the missive out to her curious comrade. Her excitement and happiness burned down to ashes, upon reaching the Maester's chamber, when she found her father stand by the open window and stare at the courtyard.

Allara wasn't supposed to even come near the vicinity of his presence, as per his orders, and now she was sure there would be another punishment waiting for her. When the Maester noticed her presence, suspecting she was ready with a response missive, eyeing her hand with a scroll, her heart skipped a beat wondering if her father already figured out her secret divertissement.

She instantly swirled around before getting caught, but his voice, as strong as iron, stopped her.

"Allara" he called. Fretting with guilty when she turned to see him, he extended his arm. For a fine moment, she thought he was asking for the missive, and sweat drops ran down her face. But he walked close to her and offered his arm. "I have been meaning to speak with you. Will you accompany me to my solar?"

Seven moons... After a long time, she was hearing him and every last bit of anger in her was turned to be swallowed sorrow, trying to emerge out as tears. If her father was a kinder man, she would have wept on his shoulder, begged on her knees to take her back. Neither was he a better man, nor was she a perfect daughter. And silencing that ugly truth in her head, she nodded and wound her arm in his. 

As she exited the chamber, the Maester silently pulled the scroll from her hand. Unable to convey him any information but confident in knowing her secret would forever remain as a buried one, she simply gave him a nod of acceptance and left. 

Her father's solar shuddered her body with all the unorganized items splayed around. The books and ledgers were lying ubiquitously on the table. The candle holder had not been cleaned in all the seven months, with remnants of its wax scattered in a disarray. The tapestries and carpets were not cleaned or changed. This was her sanctuary of work where she dedicated scrupulously on every tiny detail. Upon finding it in such poor conditions, her stomach coiled.

When her father reclined on the chair by the hearth, her hands started working on its accord on the table, arranging the ledgers, parchments and letters, as per the time it had arrived. And with minor work by the candles and lamps, she brightened the chamber. Yet, there was much to be addressed, and she decided to instruct the household to look into the tapestries and carpet.

"There is magic in your hands, just like your mother, Allara." Her father said. She shouldn't be doing this work. That was not the reason he bought her to the chamber, but her desperation made her cross the line. Fidgeting with her fingers, she approached him and silently waited for him to speak. But he simply stared at her.

If he was staring, she was reading every worry line on his face that seemed to have increased in her absence. His eyes were bulging red, probably due to not sleeping at the right time or unable to sleep.

 _Does dreams haunt you as it does to me, father?,_ she thought.

Only when a maid arrived and placed a jug of water on the table, he made a move to clear his throat. The girl was new, Allara observed and frightened of her father. With one growl from her father, the girl started spilling the water all around the carpet. Unable to witness such a frolic incident, Allara asked the girl to leave and took the jug in her hand.

"When they come, they arrive with the commitment of doing sincere work. And as the days wean by, their words are as good as winds." Her father complained, and she ignored him as usual, knowing his grumpy mood. Warming the water a little by the hearth, she added few minced pepper that she had always kept near the table. 

"Do you remember Hother Umber?" He questioned.

She wasn't playing hostess to any lords who arrived for feasts during her trail of punishment, but when she tried hard, she could almost remember the old man.

"That white-haired old man called Whoresbane, last brother to age-old Lord Umber?"

Her father's mouth was agape, but he nodded his head. "Old, yet strong. Aye, he has few white hairs. The Umbers have giant blood in them, Allara. And this tale about a whore is all a lie."

If she was Lyanna, who cared so less about court, she wouldn't have bothered or cared to take notice of her father's answer. Alas, she exactly knew where he was going with this. She offered the water to his hand and walked far away from him. Whatever love remained for her father was turning sour each minute she stood in his solar.

"Have you already given your word to them, father? Or is my wedding going to take place on the morrow?" 

Rickard Stark sighed, staring at the warm water in his hand. "Will there never be peace for me with you? Is it always going to be a battle?" After drinking till the last drop, he threw the empty copper cup to the wall. 

"Does Brandon know?"

"No... He will rage and fume like you are made to be wed for a man worth as King. Such a stupid boy. I brought up a son with no control of his emotions and a daughter who never listens to any word I say."

"You bought up two daughters, father... and two sons. Need I remind you about the son, you gave up to Vale?"

There was no answer or anger from him as she expected. Quite closely, if she observed there was a thin layer or resentment too. But he would always get what he wanted. And if he bid her to marry an old man, older than her own father, who was the third brother with no castle of his own, who lied with whores, then she would follow it, how much ever it would hurt.

When she was about to leave him, he called for her. "Your brother will not like this, I know. I have no choice other than Hother Umber."

"Father, you are the one fixing this marriage. How come you can say, you have no choice on this matter?" She was already getting vexed of prolonging this conversation.

"You are growing old and it is the right time for you to marry. Aye... Many lords asked for your hand. The Karstarks were eager to know if there was a chance. But it all came with a price, Allara."

"Dowry...?" 

When her father nodded, she wanted to open all the pages of accounts to show how much jewels and coins they own in their saving to satisfy the needs required for a marriage. A year before she left from his service, she tactically increased the tax on spices by the port, to fill the coffers in Winterfell. Even her mother's jewels were worth to give five daughters' hand for a simple marriage to northern lords. Could he be so cruel as not to spend a few coins for an able man?

"I can't risk spending coins for a matter as this. Greater storms will knock our door and we have to be prepared for it." Lord Rickard said. "I want you to speak with your brother and convince him that you are happy with this match."

"He won't believe." She abruptly stopped his folly of coercing her to convince her own brother. "And if coins will be your only problem, let me marry some hedge knight, instead of an old man of your age."

"And where will I search this hedge knight of yours? I don't have time." He snapped.

In that moment, with a desperate attempt to somehow escape this hell he was planning, she yelled. "I will search by myself." 

For a fine time, he didn't answer. "You will make no promises of dowry or lands or titles to any man you find. And don't bring a common-born in the name of love. Within six moons, if you are able to find a hedge knight and convince him to take you, you can leave the castle. Else, my decision will remain final."

This was it. To send her away from the castle was his only goal. If Brandon was not there, he wouldn't have even bothered to speak with her about this plan. Every next second she stood by the solar, her heart shrunk. Promising herself to never enter that place again or see his face, she searched for solace in the crypts.

* * *

"Everyone is ready for the departure, my Prince. Princess Elia has been asking for you." Jon said entering Rhaegar's solar. "Shall we proceed?"

 _"Ah-"_ Rhaegar didn't know how to convey his loyal friend about the situation. "Where is Arthur?"

Jon flinched. "Last I saw him, he was accompanying his sister. Will he be coming with us to Dragonstone?"

"Of course... We have a great deal of work to do. I need everyone I trust by my side. Also, Jon... How confident are you about storm lords?"

"Not much... But with Robert on your side, you have nothing to worry, Prince. After all, he is your cousin, right?" Jon pondered.

"Distant... but, yes..." Rhaegar was distracted by Richard's entry. And forgetting what he was about to instruct Jon to do, he anticipated for news from his squire. Instead of answering, Richard waved the scroll in his hand, and Rhaegar was unable to hide the excitement to read Allara's response. He pried the scroll from Richard's hand, and read word by word of her stunning mind, anxiously and attentively. 

The moment he read about Allara's dragon dream, his heart tried to jump out of his chest and burst into thousand pieces. He was persuading himself for years, that the dreams didn't mean anything other than his own fantasy, even when he found the wolf's head. Now, with truth laid before him, he was unsure if he should be like Daenys the Dreamer and seek for wisdom.

Rhaegar observed the dead silence of his chamber and figured both Jon and Richard gape at finding his excitement quite odd. Of course, he was never the one to be excited about anything. "Did the message bore misgivings, your grace? I found it have no seal. Do we need to worry about a threat of somekind?" Richard bombarded with questions, and Rhaegar dismissed his squire's words with the shake of his head.

He proceeded to go through Allara's astonishing work of the account of First men. Even before seeing her, he could feel how passionate she was about learning. Knowledge was something he valued above all valour.

_"My Prince..."_

Rhaegar saw a golden-haired girl enter his chamber, alone. Immersing into the contents of the letter and desperation for truth made him forget to recognize the girl before him.

"Who are you?" He asked while his head dwelled in unanswered questions from Allara's missive and a plan spawning parallelly to write a response to her before reaching Dragonstone.

"Cersei, your grace... Have you forgotten, already? We met during Prince Viserys's name day." The girl smiled, and he vaguely nodded at her, still flipping through the paper in hand, which should be handled more discreetly than to present it before the eyes of strangers.

"May I know, how I can offer to help you?"

"For days, I had been planning to meet you, my Prince. No one allows me. As you are leaving today, will you give me the honor of privacy, in which we can speak?" Cersei asked, making him momentarily deviate from the letter and come to the world where he was living in.

Richard snorted with a cackle. Jon became absolutely furious at such a brainless request. Rhaegar's eyes were moving on to the parchment at hand and he found the last page in another handwriting, which was not Allara's.

"It is not wise for a young lady as you to ask for an audience with me in private. Will you be able to tell whatever you have to say, in front my squire and lord Jon?"

Cersei's brows wrinkled, and she spied both of his men with a distaste. But when she turned to him, the girl's frown was replaced with a smile.

"Will you be so cruel to even reject a beautiful maid's request, even for once, my Prince?" Her fingers moved to hold his hand, and he was sure Jon's disgruntled growls could make any woman feel shamed. But Cersei Lannister was not any woman, and she didn't bother about what was happening around focusing on only getting closer to him. Living a remarkably long life at the castle made him aware of how women try seducing to get what they wanted from him, and by the way of the girl's appearance, Rhaegar confirmed it. But a man who would rule the Kingdom one day should not have such flummery, and he detached himself from her.

Rhaegar wanted to get rid of her so he could read what the Maester had written in the missive. It should be something of importance for the man to convey along with Allara's scroll.

"Walk with me to the stables, my lady." He asked and requested both Jon and Richard to maintain distance while coming.

With one hand holding Allara's missive and another arm holding the Lannister woman, Rhaegar strode to the stable in a steady pace. What he failed to observe at that moment was the court taking a note of this ceremony or one specific spider spying to declare it to his mad father of this news.

"My father has presented me rubies and gems made tiara similar to Queen Rhaenyra's. Wouldn't it look radiant on me, your grace?"

Was it naivety on the girl's part to ask such treasonous questions to him or arrogance at getting what she desired? He realized he didn't care.

"I was expecting you have something important to discuss with me, my lady." He paused with a tight line of grimness setting on his face.

"Yes, your grace." She smiled cautiously and tried to hold both his hands, especially the one with Allara's letter, prying to read the contents of it, and he had to pull back his hand, walking away from her with a tight line on his lips. "I have always dreamed of visiting Dragonstone, my Prince. To see the marvelous structure and the beautiful gargoyles. Shall I join your trip?"

"They are called gargoyles because there is no beauty in it, my lady. However, if you want to visit Dragonstone, you have to ask my wife, Princess Elia Martell. She decides on the matter of who should be invited to be her companions in the castle."

"But... If you order her, she has no choice other than to accept me."

Rhaegar was curious to know why the girl was interested to come till Dragonstone. But the priorities mattered now. "You can always approach her. I don't find any reason why she should refuse you. Good luck, my lady."

With that, he commanded a guard to escort her back to the Keep, meanwhile reading the last message of the letter as he stood by his war horse. Sliding the letter in his pocket, with a lot of confusions swimming in his head, Rhaegar rode with Jon and Richard to the port, where a ship was waiting for them to take back to Dragonstone. 

Allara's father was striking an alliance with an old northern man, whose name didn't even matter to him. He was beyond bothered to learn about it. Would it be wiser to leave this folly of exchanging letters and focus only on deposing his father? What benefit would he be able to reap even if he worried over such information? The girl had seen sixteen name days, a perfect age to get married.

_"Kepa"_

His little girl threw her arm around his neck and he instantly scooped her from Arthur's hand.

"Issabyka zaldrīzes... Are you troubling your uncle?"

"No... No... No..." Rhaenys waved her hand dismissively with a pout on her mouth. Rhaegar peppered kisses on his little dragon's forehead, who had a massive sunflower in her hand. She was absolutely adorable, and he loved her with all his heart, but a part of him wished there was a son of his own blood to carry on his line to the throne. With whatever time he spent with Viserys, he felt another blow to his head, realizing how his father had influenced on his little brother's life, drastically.

"We should start now, your grace. The captain says the wind is on our side." Arthur urged, but with thousands of questions gnawing his head, Rhaegar dismissed the proposal and walked towards Elia and Ashara.

"Elia, I have a request to make with you." When Elia listened curiously, his shame should be evident in his face that his dear wife took his hand and moved to a far distant from the eyes of men. Things were spoken, and Rhaegar said some blatant lie. If Elia really discovered the truth behind his mask, she didn't care to express it to him.

And within the next hour, he stood on the shore along with Richard dis-heartedly hearing to Rhaenys cry from the ship that was moving to Dragonstone. Sending Arthur with Elia, Ashara and Rhaenys for safety and instructing Jon to leave with Ser Oswell to help him arrange the tourney with the coins required to fund it, which he ordered it to be done within six moon turn, Rhaegar stared at his squire. 

"Are we going to Summerhall, my Prince?" Richard asked excitedly. "I will protect you with my sword."

Rhaegar gave a wry chuckle, listening to his squire's intrepid words. "I will need your protection, but not to Summerhall. Do me a favour and buy heavy wollen cloaks, tunics and breeches for both of us, from the local shops without any sigils or symbols on it. Come back by evening, collecting my armour from the Keep, the one with no sigils... and bring a black dye for my hair."

"We are going in disguise... To where?"

"North..."

And when Richard returned with all the requirements, Rhaegar coloured his hair black and offered the Captain ten silver stags for them to set his travel to Eastwatch by Sea. It was time to meet with his grand uncle to seek help on disturbing matters he had been saying beyond the wall. But it would be a lie, if he said he was going only to see Maester Aemon. This was all for her... Allara Stark. 

_I promised you I would climb mountains to seek truth... and I am coming for you, my wolf._

* * *

Allara emptied the last urn that she once used to save coins as a child and found merely ten silver stags. What started as an effort to buy a jewel now seemed as her only option to pay her way out of the castle. But with nineteen gold dragons and seventy silver stags, she didn't know how to find a chivalrous man to accept her as his wife. 

"Here, take this thirty silver stags from me." Lya shoved coins in Allara's hand, but those were not enough.

"What should I do, Lya? I feel lost and incredibly stupid. How will I find a hedge knight in Winterfell?" Allara screamed, clinging to her hair.

"Don't... You should run away and explore the lands on your own." Lya answered cooly.

"Men are dangerous than animals, sister. I won't survive a day in the wild." Allara convinced, more to herself than to his sister. The thought of running didn't get missed in her head. Instead of giving her body to a man, who she should seduce to make him accept her hand, she wanted to run away, where no one would bother her. But that was stupid considering men would rape and kill her the chance they find her.

"Tell to Brandon... He has so many southern friends. Elbert Arryn and that Glover boy..."

"No." She said strongly uninterested in involving her brother in this mess. "I have a choice in my hand to choose a man of my liking. It is an opportunity."

"Whatever, sister... Ned is arriving today. He promised me to bring fresh flowers from the mountains on the way."

Allara stared at her dreamy sister, who still hadn't got even her moon blood. Even with merely two years different they both shared problems wide apart, and although Allara yearned to share joy, her mood turned too sour to enjoy any sweet things. She left her chamber unable to convince that there was a possibility for her to find a noble, gentle and kind man on her own. The only reason they would want to marry her would be for her beauty and her name. With name came some power, wealth and lands. 

She wanted to give up on this mission on finding a good man. Her last experience with Jaime didn't comfort her either. If she ever happened to meet that brash brute again, she would make sure to shave his golden hair and give clout to his ears a thousand times till her anger would wane by.

Sniffing pathetically, she wandered to the crypts to sit in silence, reminiscing of her pathetic life. She swore the ghosts of the Kings were laughing at her. When dripping sound of water droplets emerged from the tunnel further inside, Allara followed the sound aimlessly, dragging her fingers against the wall. At one point, when her fingers scratched the stone, a hollow noise erupted, and conscientiously she knocked the stone at that area.

Perilous to hear that distinct hollow sound, she pushed the stone slightly, and the stone moved, giving way to another secret path, that extended longer with twists and turns, with broken stone stairs that led her from one path to another. When she ended up standing by the exit, she was blocked by stone wall. Doubtfully, when she pushed, it moved too.

What she didn't expect to find was knee level hot water fill in that grimly dark cavern. Immediately, pulling back the stone door, she walked carefully on that water, but sooner realized that this was an extension of Godswood hot water lake, which was touching a cavern that was connecting directly to the crypts. Some old escape tunnel. 

With the next step, she hit her foot on some heavy stone beneath and fell face first on to the water. Ridiculously drenched and immersed with water, her little adventure came to an end. When she rose, she laughed maniacally. With no clue to move forward in life, stuck in an unwanted place, she wished to hire an army of sellsword and march against Winterfell, to prove her father that she was capable of more than just a burden to be rid off for the highest bidder.

Tears overwhelming her voice, she carefully took the next step to emerge out to the hot water lake, but when she sunlight shimmered on dark, clean water, golden blotches bright as sun emerging beneath the lake, caught her eyes.

Unsurely, she moved towards the source of that light, and dropped down to lift the stone that actually made her fall. It was not one stone, but there were five with scales sharp and glimmering, each with different shades.

They were dragon eggs...

Her knees fell on the floor, unable to believe if she was in real life or living in yet another dream. 

Time went on and the sun passed to the sky above. With wet clothes, wet hair, when she reached the Great Keep, someone from behind knocked her down and she rolled in mud and dirt, before seeing Lya climb on her stomach.

"Why should it be me? I hate you... You always take everything from me. This should have happened to you. You wanted to play this pretty wife, not me. I am taking all your coins, bitch..." Lya screamed, holding Allara's gown.

"Lya... What are you speaking about?" Allara was outraged by her sister's words, but more than that, she was unclear of what was happening.

"Father has ordered me to marry Robert. Now I have marry that whoremonger while you gallivant the kingdom with a chivalrous knight of your choice. You deserve him. Not me... I deserve a knight... not you." She shouted with tears, sweeping her freckled cheeks.

If it was another time, before her exploration to the cavern, she would have been distraught to learn the news that Lyanna would be marrying Robert Baratheon of Storm's End. Now, she could only think about her mystery comrade.

_How the hell did he suspect the return of dragons? Does my dream mean more than what I think of?_

Eddard separated Lyanna from her body and yelled at her for being unmannerly and rude. Allara thanked her brother and went to her chamber to clean up, all the while unable to spill this truth to anyone. She was hell as sure to not tell this to her father. Brandon would act unwisely. Ned would obviously choose to tell it to their sire.

She wanted to speak with her mystery comrade without giving away the information to the Maester too. How soon was she able to trust a random man over her own brothers and sister? Her secret comrade really had his charm even through words.

The thoughts were too much consuming that she forgot to worry about her impending marriage task. But with five dragon eggs, she might earn a fortune to even live on her own, if she crossed sea. Any noble man would marry her and protect her with love.

A smile after so long... she didn't know how long, was pasted on her face that never left.


	11. Welcoming A Stranger

Rhaegar stepped out from the iron elevator, wounding himself around tight with his gloved hands, landing his boots onto the thick layer of ice. His jaw dropped to stand at the top of the world and gawk at the horizon of endless snow, while thick heavy cold breeze knocked his body. It felt like living an old dream. He didn't expect this... to feel awed as well as aghast...

"Marvellous... Isn't it?" Mance questioned.

Even though Rhaegar came under the disguise of a soldier sent by the King, to give arms and armours to the Night's Watch, five days before to Castle Black, he was indeed wary of men figuring out his identity. One such man who made him more considerate was Mance Rayder.

"Indeed... The Wall... is such a terrifying beauty. Were these raised only to keep out the wildlings?"

"Free Folks..." Mance said in a tone of correction. "They don't like to be called as Wildlings. Such a derogation for freedom." The broad-chested man's eyes bristled in contempt. "And no... There are worse things than humans out there."

"Free Folks?... A wise name to be lauded on for men who fight and gut each other without any laws or rules to adhere to." Rhaegar replied, staring down from the edge. The tremendous height with which the wall was raised gave goose prickles to his skin.

"Tell me, _Ser-_?" Mance paused.

"Duncan... Ser Duncan..."

"Aye... Tell me, Ser Duncan... If you were given a choice to die in freedom or live in chains, which one would you prefer?" Rhaegar offered no answer for a long time, but measured the brown-haired man who had distinct opinions from what the rest of his brothers shared and somehow those opinions started to rub him.

"Your opinion of freedom means lack of leadership and mine means offering protection." He answered.

Mance laughed, patting Rhaegar's shoulder. "How about we go for a hunting, later? You could use some move to make sure your balls doesn't freeze off and also see if you could really offer protection these _wildlings._ "

Damn it... The man had figured out. Rhaegar gave a simple nod and realized his balls were actually getting frozen. The cold was neither accommodating nor accepting him. Dragon blood was made for fire not for ice and the thought that his Grand uncle Maester Aemon had stayed most of his life in this waste cold lands, gave chills to his soul. 

_A dragon is a dragon, old or not._

Once the lift lowered, Rhaegar went to meet Richard in the Common Hall, who was supping in a corner, far away from the crows.

"Hot stew!! Couldn't be better for this cold..." He took a seat next to Richard who stared at the men in black clothes with wide eyes. "Do you think, you can manage to go for a ride, later?" Rhaegar questioned.

"These bloody lands and these bloody bawdy men... There is no reason why someone would want to serve in this place. This is a true punishment, your grace."

"Richard..." Rhaegar coughed, choking on his stew, and rolled his eyes everywhere to take notice if anyone actually listened to their conversation. "What did I tell about you calling my name?"

"Ser Duncan...?" Richard pondered. "Oh... Sorry, your grace. I completely-"

"Don't make me regret of bringing you, Richard... One more time you repeat, then I will leave you in the middle of that haunted forest and hand over you to the free folks." He yelled without causing much noise.

"I am sorry, Ser... That name doesn't suit you, neither is this place. Look at these fools... What are they actually thinking to protect the realm from? Grumkins?..."

"Do you respect the white cloaks of Kingsguard?" He asked, picking up the cooked turnips in the stew with a spoon.

"Of course, Ser. One day, after I earn my spurs, I will strive hard to become one of the Seven in Ser's Royal guard. Protecting you and your family, till I leave my breath." Richard's wide brown eyes were full of pride and valour. The boy should be knighted sooner.

"That is so admirable, Richard. I will also strive hard to be a man worthy of protecting. But, do you know the history of how they were formed, by Aegon the Dragon?" Richard shook his head. "Queen Visenya formed it after observing and learning the oaths and honour of these crows. She wanted such an elite force to protect the King, same as these great men clad in black cloaks, who gave up everything in their life, for the safety of the realm. All men have to serve... especially the one in black. The night's watch was a great order, before. Manned with nineteen castles between Eastwatch by Sea to Shadow Tower, unlike now."

"But what are they fighting against? There is no war or battle, to get glory... Its mere raids to ridiculous lands, fighting off the wildlings-"

"Free folks..." Rhaegar corrected his squire with a twitch in his lips. Mance had really gotten under his skin. There was something so strong about that man that Rhaegar was instantly afflicted to lean towards his words. "How about we see what lays beyond, today?"

Giving words of encouragement to his squire, Rhaegar wandered to the library, seeking to spend the rest of his time with Maester Aemon. The castle itself was in no modest state. His first order after he ascends would be to send enough men to rectify this problem. Once the old books' scent invited him, he leaned on the closed door, staring at his own blood in admiration.

"This is the one I have been searching for..." Maester Aemon waved a missive in his hand, towards Rhaegar. "Come... Read it. I have been meaning to send you this... had you not arrived."

Glancing the contents of the strange old letter, he felt his head spin in more and more confusion. "What do they even mean? Do these words hold any truth?"

"My brother, Egg, searched for the same truth, when I told him. But we both know what havoc searching for those truths unleashed on our family." Maester Aemon said with a quivering voice, staring at the hearth with his blind eyes. "I gave up my crown for my brother, Rhaegar. Now, everyone I knew and once loved, are lost."

Rhaegar flinched at the mention of the tragedy in Summerhall. "You have me... and my mother, even my little brother... There is a family for you, uncle. I want you... I need you to be with us. We are the last of the..." Rhaegar paused.

 _"Dragons..."_ Maester Aemon gave a toothless smile. "Egg and I, owned beautiful dragon eggs, once. We used to pretend they will come to life and we will ride them when we grow up. I assume it all went to dust in that fire. Now, I am grown up, Ser. Old and weak... I won't be riding any dragons or guiding any dragons. And you need a trusted man here, at the Wall. Don't you?"

Rhaegar wanted to scream at this old man for rejecting his offer. He felt even more alone than before. With a mad, moronic father who was torturing the realm and his mother, how was he supposed to do the right thing, _alone_? 

"This is too hard on me..." He said with gritted teeth, crushing the letter in hand. "I feel the weight of duty crushing on my shoulder that I might break. How do you do the right thing when there are enemies on all the sides? The Lannisters, the Starks, the Baratheons, this thing in the North and my royal sire. How am I supposed to make the right move? You should be there with me... _Help me_... _Please_... Like all the hands for all the good Kings before us. My father is frying hands like flies... Or... Tell me, what to do." He screamed with a shivering voice, staring at the old man who had no guilt in not taking any responsibilities and staying far away from the crown.

"Rhaegar... Do you think all the Kings sat on that throne of blades with only courage and bravery as their armour? There were good men who became bad Kings, and bad men who became good Kings. What will you be, Rhaegar? Who will you choose to be?" With only the sound of twigs splitting by the hearth, a long silence prevailed between them. "You are young, inexperienced. Men will test you for your worth. They will test you for your father's worth and all the dragons before him. Your hands will be bloody. Are you going to cower or face it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice. A short rule, with glory or a long rule with burden. A crown is always going to be a burden, my Prince."

 _"Prince!!"_ The title roused a bile from his throat. "You said I am the Prince who was promised... There should be no reason for me to worry." Rhaegar said with no confidence of what he deduced to be the truth. If his heart sternly believed as before, he wouldn't be this scared. "But the star bled, at another time in King's Landing... Perhaps, it is not me... What am I missing? And this letter about the return of dragons... Are they even true?"

Maester Aemon chuckled. "All my brothers believed in bringing the dragons back and all went to their early grave. We know only half of all those prophecies, Rhaegar. Choose your battle to bring prosperity to these people. No matter how hard the decision will be. Choose for the greater good..."

"The greater good..." Rhaegar repeated the same words that he used in his letter to Allara and nodded his head. "I plan to leave on the morrow..."

"To King's Landing?..."

"To Winterfell... I need to find this girl..." Rhaegar pursed his lips and stared at the Maester's purple eyes, which stared at nothingness. "She shares my dream." He sighed, leaning back. "Literal dreams... I don't know what these signs mean, nor do I completely understand the game of this man, from beyond this wall. But she shares my dream, uncle."

"A maid???" Aemon chuckled and his orbs went to the ceiling. "Once, even I fell in love with a maid, in the flower lands. I promised to take her hand after I forged the chain. She had flowers all over her braids and had a fragrance of honey. Even her memory is sweet, that it pains my heart now."

"This is not the same... She has something for me to seek. Nothing more. I am a married man." Rhaegar resolutely declared, but a mocking laugh erupted from the Maester.

"In all the years, that we spoke about prophecies and dangerous creature from North, you never visited me once. I thought I will die alone without a touch of dragon near me. Now, that you grace your presence to this old man with no eyes, do you really want to fool my heart, Rhaegar?"

Rhaegar shook his head in denial, but Richard started shouting from outside.

"Ser Duncan... Shall we leave for the raid? Mance asked me to call you."

Pressing his hand against his great-grand uncle's shoulder, Rhaegar took his leave to scurry with the free-folk advisor. 

"Kill the boy..." Maester Aemon advised as Rhaegar crossed the door. "I said Egg the same. Kill the boy and let the man be born..."

* * *

The tunnel ride gave stutters to even Rhaegar, who was faring far better than his squire. He never knew the pain of cold, as he was feeling now. The dreams had mercy than what he was feeling now, beneath the cloaks. Squire Dalbridge, Mance, Richard and Rhaegar proceeded their ride towards the haunted forest, which had intertwined branches hugging each other, giving no way for light to penetrate.

There was no game for them to hunt, and Rhaegar suspected something odd about the augural calmness in the forest. Even the black brothers who were fine rangers had difficulty in deciding to proceed further.

"Do these forests have any living thing at all? Or only ghosts and demons reside here as the name suggests?" Rhaegar questioned.

"This was where the First men lived, once and I am sure their ghosts are guarding..." Mance answered, swinging down from his tall red stallion.

Chilling breeze burning his pale chin, Rhaegar quietly observed the men before him, who were tying up their horses. Following their silent cue, he did the same and asked his squire Richard to follow too. This was not normal... something more abnormal for even not a bird to chirp at this fine hour. And the wind was cold... chilling his heart.

"Does your squire know to use his sword?" Dalbridge questioned unsheathing his long rusted sword from his scabbard. Rhaegar acknowledged, and they both did the same, sensing the oddness of the surrounding. Rhaegar closed his eyes to focus and hear any shake of air around him.

One moment there was no noise, but the very next, there were war cries as seven men surrounded them with axes and long swords in hand, in their stolen garments, circling and screaming, jumping down from tall trees. Dalbridge was the first to raise his weapon against a man, who seemed half a giant himself, but his blade was blocked by Mance, and the steel was slowly kissing Dalbridge's throat.

"I am so sorry, brother. But, this matter is between me and the Prince. If you promise to lay down your sword, I will not harm you and let you go back to the Wall, unharmed." Mance said in a huffing tone. Rhaegar remained calm, his brows creased, unwilling to tell something wrong at that moment. "RattleShirt!!! Have you ever seen a game falling straight to your hand? Watch now... This is the Prince of DragonStone, my present to all your clans." Mance said with a wicked grin.

"And what do we do with this pretty Prince of yours? I say, we take his head and send to the Wall. Let your crow brother, Qorgyle, decorate his chamber..." The man named Rattleshirt laughed, swinging his long spear towards Rhaegar. ****

Before Richard or Dalbridge moved, Rhaegar's legs took position and for the first time, he felt the weight of a sword in hand, unnerving and thrilling at the same time. The man was huge, and his shirt was rattling with bones singing a song. _Rhaegar loved songs._ Soon, the song of steel against steel started to whisper in the cold wind, and the Prince tried his best to not give grave wound to the rattle shirt. _He wanted them to be alive. He needed them alive._ Rhaegar might not have been the strongest amongst the men in the realm, but he was trained by Ser Willem Darry, day and night, knighted by the greatest sword, Ser Arthur Dayne. He knew how to swing a sword. He was no Maegor, but he wasn't Aenys either. Giving a final slit by the leg, the tall bearded man rolled over in the snow with a loud scream.

What Rhaegar was unprepared to see was the rest of the six men lunging towards him. They weren't knights, and they knew no honor. His heart thudded against his ribs and all he could think was Rhaenys, when a strong broad chested man swung his axe. He took a few steps behind, but the battle was about to be over... until Mance interrupted the rest of the men.

"Good with a sword... Are we?" Mance asked. "Tell me my Prince... What you want from me... Clearly, you seem to know my intentions. And I was a fool to think you as a stupid green boy."

Dalbridge was screaming. "Is it true? Are you Rhaegar Targaryen? Tell me, Ser..."

Rhaegar took a moment to apprehend, but he didn't feel at ease. Something was still wrong. "I can smell the dead... I have smelled it before."

Dalbridge and Richard found his answer odd, but Rattleshirt, who was clinging to his bleeding leg, glanced at Mance with a fright in his eyes. "We should leave now... He seems right about it. Where are the three scouts of yours?"

"They didn't return..." A woman answered with a spear still pointing at Rhaegar. He broke the lance that was pointed at him in a single swing, and pierced his sword into the heart of a man behind the woman, whose eyes were blue as ice. The blue-eyed man screeched, but his strength hadn't left and neither did his heart bleed. In chaos, many splattered, leaving only Mance, Rattleshirt, Dalbridge and Richard to the dead man. It was Dalbridge who swung a sword to cut the dead man's head, but the dead hands were still moving, swinging the sword. Finally, Mance took a pale glass and pierced it to the heart of the dead man, and the struggle ended.

"What the fuck is that?" Richard questioned.

"The dead..." Rhaegar answered unable to believe his own eyes. "And it doesn't die for steel... Only for obsidian..." His eyes wandered to what Mance was holding in his hand. "We need to speak about this..."

"Not here... There were three scouts. Now, only one seemed to find his way back. They are more than just dead..." Mance said and guided them to somewhere far, and Dalbridge was boiling inside.

"We swore oaths, Mance... You are an oath-breaker making pacts with the wildlings... And... Prince... I cannot believe you would risk coming like this. Do you know, I served as a squire to your grandsire. He would be wroth to know, you did such a folly, if he were alive."

Upon reaching the spot where there were nine heart trees facing each other, Rhaegar held Dalbridge's shoulder with a sigh. "Are you not more troubled to see the dead, Ser? How am I supposed to learn to rule, if I don't see what is happening in my lands?"

"These aren't your lands..." Rattleshirt seethed, tying a heavy cloth around his calf. "Your dragon King didn't claim rights to these lands. He was clever not to do so, else, we would have sent him home long before."

"I agree... But, whatever is happening here will not end here. You need the help from my realm..."

"And you need ours..." Mance interrupted. "Do you think there is only one dead man roaming here? There are tens and thousands of half dead monsters thirsty for blood, and the only thing that stops them is this dagger. You haven't seen the pale monsters... They are plotting in the land of forever winter..."

"And what is your plan, Mance Rayder? To join your free folks and kill every dead man you come upon? What is your plan to kill the pale monsters?" When Mance had no answers, Rhaegar filled in the distance. "You need me as much as I need you. If we are going to survive this..."

"We don't kneel... We will die with an axe in our hand." Rattleshirt rattled.

"Then you all will die. You came with six men upon you. The plan was brilliant, but I see only two remain out of six, and one bleeding to death. Is this your wise plan for gaining freedom?..." Rhaegar screamed with his dark eyes dancing in madness. Mance unsheathed his sword, and Rhaegar didn't wait for him to finish, as his hand swung to place his steel on Mance's neck. "Don't presume I will let go every single time. I should be carving your heart out for being an oath-breaker."

Mance laughed. "Yet, I find you making a deal with me. Why is that?"

"Because, I value life... and you seem to value the same too. Do what you are doing. Bind the living under your name, you can have your banner too, but bend your knee to me and we will together to fight for the living."

Rattleshirt sighed. "And what is your plan, pretty prince? Send your northern men to fight for us. They will rather gut us than protect us."

"No... The wall has magic, and when the time comes, I will let you cross the wall. When everything is said and done, you can go back to your lands. But the laws of my lands will apply where you live too. I will not tolerate this barbaric way of life."

There were a lot of arguments between him and Rattleshirt, who kept calling Rhaegar a pretty man. As insulting it was, Rhaegar understood the rustic, barbaric looks of the northerners which aided them to mock his appearance.

At last, Mance screamed. "You came knowing I was going to ambush you. I appreciate the meat in you. But, you have nothing that we don't have to fight against the dead men."

"I have a mountain of dragon-glass that you hold in your hand, in DragonStone. And soon... something better."

"What?..."

"Fire..." Rhaegar noticed the change in Mance's face, hearing his suggestion. Five days of spending time with him, there was a subtle trust blooming on his friend's face. "Trust me, Rayder... Swear your oaths to me before your Gods and I will forgive your previous sins of oath-breaking. Or fight and die now." He declared in his iron strong voice.

"Men are dying like flies... Children are walking with their guts out. These people took me in, when I was about to die by a Shadowcat and nursed me back alive. Aye... I want them to live... at whatever cost it will be. But, if you fail bringing your source of fire, then there is no point in swearing my oath."

Rhaegar regarded that this was the limit he could extract loyalty from a man like Mance. The Prince hadn't shown any promise to make them trust him either. He agreed. "Fine... Fire for loyalty..."

"Before the old Gods, I will swear my oath of fealty to you, if you will save the people of my land."

* * *

"Did you plan to leave without even telling me, Ned?" 

Her sweet brother gawked at the hot pool, staring at his own reflection of the infamous Stark long face. He was almost adamantly refusing to speak with her ever since his arrival from Vale.

"This is all my mistake. Aly... I am really sorry." 

"What are you sorry about?" She chided with a smile and sat on a rock lower to him, placing her hand on his legs. Her eyes wandered to the edge of the pool, and she wondered how the eggs were faring. "I heard you and Brandon had a fight. Is that why you are leaving early?"

Ned twirled a red leaf between his fingers. "He was right to fight with me. Only I would have preferred if he hadn't used so many crass words on his own brother." 

"Forget him... He already took his horse to ride to Rills. You are over seventeen. Do you still need to go for fostering? Or did you fall in love with a Royce girl there?" She teased, leaning her head against his legs, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"No... No time to run behind a girl, when I am surrounded by boys all the time. But, I have to speak with Robert... Father sent a letter to him, before informing me and..." He paused and Allara could sense the guilt emitting from his gray eyes. "Believe me, sister... I didn't have any part in deciding this match. And moreover, I said Robert about you a lot... than Lya. When I heard Jaime has decided to take the white cloak... you don't know how happy I was to offer your hand to Robert."

Allara gave an uneasy smile. "Ned... Don't worry about me. I expected father would do such a thing, after how I spoilt my relationship with him. But I am glad I did so... He now gave me a choice to choose someone I like." Her brother gave her a concerned look in response.

"You do remember that you have two big brothers, right? There is no way we are going to let you choose a hedge knight. I might... but Brandon will not. He promised father that he will duel any man who comes to ask for your hand."

"Brandon is a fool." Allara said, raising up to clear the dust out of her knee-length dress that she wore for going out with her little brother. "And if you need someone to worry about... then it should be Lya. She doesn't like your friend."

"Robert is... more like my brother. Why doesn't she see it?"

"Robert is just like your brother." She reflected realizing how much Robert resembled Brandon, even with respect to women. No wonder her brother got attached to that Storm Lord. "She is too young, Ned, and hadn't even flowered, yet... She has her own dreams. Give her some time. Perhaps, once she gets to know Robert, she might like him. They still have a lot of years to get to know each other, right?" Allara knew her sister would definitely give the toughest time, but if she loved, she did it fiercely.

They spoke about all silly things that they missed exchanging, which involved her explanation to him of how she lost all her coins to Lya and how she in fact started earning those coins, in the first place. Just when she was about to spill the truth about her secret comrade and the eggs, they were close the stable. She controlled her tongue when Benjen dragged the reins of his horse in excitement to go for a hunt. 

Once Ned left with his men, Allara rode with Benjen to the woods with DarkWing, and continuously contemplated about her marriage. _It felt like she was having everything, yet nothing._ How was she supposed to make use of the dragon eggs? And the dreams...

Initially, she wanted to sell it for a good price to that jeweller in Wintertown and get nice gold to go somewhere far and live on her own, hiring sellswords for service. But the dragon dreams were haunting her day by day, for her to ignore the knowledge of its return. When she tried to send a letter to her secret comrade, the Maester informed that he could not be communicated.

There were so many tunnels open, but she couldn't find which had light shedding from. She almost forgot trailing for the game when Benjen tucked her knee-length green gown that was meant for riding, with breeches to cover her legs.

"Buck..." He whispered, and she noticed that pretty dotted animal, which they were about to butcher in exchange for a few coins. Just when Ben was pulling the string in his bow, Allara nudged his hand to stop. "What happened?" He asked.

"Let us spare the animals today, brother. Shall we?"

His face fell so low, like she stole some precious gem from his hand. "But you lost all your coins to Lya. And we should start earning more if we plan on buying your pendent." He argued earnestly in an attempt to somehow satisfy his crave to hunt the animal.

"Perhaps, I don't need that pendant as I did before. And..." Allara desperately wished to spill the truth to her little brother, atleast. He wouldn't cause any harm, and he always kept his word. To someone she should tell, else her head would burst. "I have another source for coins..."

Benjen sternly listened to what she was about to say. And just then, they heard chaotic noises emerging out from the bush. When they looked in front, the buck that was alive before laid dead, killed by someone else's arrow. Immediately, they both hid behind a tree, to avoid getting caught by her father's men. Her father didn't know about this adventure of theirs, and she didn't want it to be known, either.

"Whoa!!!" A boy cried in excitement. "Look how big the buck is, Ser... We are not going to be hungry for another week, I say."

"Hmmm... The cold preserves." This was a man's voice, and he was ending the animal's pain. These were poachers, and she stared at Benjen, who was already praying to the Old Gods while slowly unsheathing his sword. She had to roll her eyes, unable to believe her little brother was ready to fight off two grown men who were poachers. Benjen was merely a twelve-year-old boy, but she shouldn't stop him either. She closed her eyelids and went beneath DarkWing. Moving silently between the bushes, staring at the glimpses of two men, who were keen on skinning the dead buck, Allara decided to let her brother take a chance. Else, they might be attacked by those men.

"Go, now..." She told Benjen, and prepared her longbow to aim at the tall man's back, while Benjen placed his sword to the back of the boy.

"Don't move..." Her brother bellowed out an order. "Tell us how many accompanied you..." His voice was shaking in fear, to hold blade against real men over practice strawman or noble knights in the courtyard, and she herself started doubting her judgement of leaping on attacking some wayward men.

"Do you think you can best us boy? Run away..." The boy with brown hair mocked trying to turn back to see them.

Both the men's hands went to touch the hilt of their sword, and they were armed... and was clad in mail chains. They were no normal poachers... 

"Don't move your hand. Keep it where we can see..." She ordered, but the boy chuckled in arrogance. He didn't care for her warning, as his hand easily slid to his side to unsheathe his sword. "DarkWing..."

Hearing her voice, her wolf came out of the large bush in front of them, and Allara's breath came back in one piece of holding something powerful against the two grown men, when her loyal companion rose gigantically with snarling teeth and blood-red eyes.

"Fuck..." The boy muttered and fell back with his hand shivering, seeing a direwolf for the first time, and she couldn't stop the smile that started spreading on her face when he kicked his leg in mud to slide behind. "What in the seven hells..." He sounded like he was about to piss. They should be some southeron. Their accent was nowhere from North. Although she never planned on attacking them, the sight of fright was powerful to behold, until... the man with black hair showed no sign of fear as he rose from the ground.

DarkWing growled with baring its huge canine teeth at the man, and she expected the man to budge and bend down, so there wouldn't be any blood spilled. Even she was not sure how much of wolf instinct could be controlled from her wolf's body. Slowly, the tall man approached closer to her wolf, and her wolf leaned forward to take a stance of attack. Understanding it, the man bent his head too, slowly raising his hand in air. 

"Ser... No... Don't go close..." The boy addressed the knight in black.

The man's insolence was overbearing to her, but she wanted to know what he was trying to do.

"Calm down, Richard..." The knight's smooth voice calmed even her, before he lifted his hand towards her wolf. 

"I will not be responsible if you lose your arm." She warned, and he gave a chuckle in response before giving feather light touches to her wolf's face, dragging his long fingers all the way to its fur behind and into her wolf's body. For a moment, with the way her wolf snapped, she thought he deserved to lose an arm for being stupid enough to put his hand into a direwolf's mouth.

But slowly her wolf became calm and leaned into his touches with a whine. Even her little brother was shocked.

"I am sure the lady and her wolf are not the ones to harm us, Richard." The knight said with a laugh, brushing the black furs in smooth circles.

_What if he was a warg who was trying to claim her direwolf?_

"Is this how you welcome your comrade, Lady Grey? With a crossbow on my back and a direwolf to my front to maul me?" He asked.

"Lord Black?" She asked in an out worldly disbelief, and her legs moved on its accord to stand in front to see his face. _Was this all happening for real?_

He was covered in black woollen clothes, and an armour beneath. She expected him to be a middle aged man of bald head and fat belly. But he was such a disappointment... in a surprisingly good way. With dark black eyes, which was obviously too odd to be matched with his dark hair and his charming face, he was every bit a good-looking southern young man and she refused to believe he actually sent her missives about dragons, potions, magic and bald eagle quill of King Jaehaerys's from Oldtown.

He was gawking at her too, with a slightly opened lip. His eyes were on her mismatched pairs, and she was sure he would have found it ghastly... or different. She couldn't figure what was his feeling, and suddenly her consciousness peeked in to think about how she appeared before him.

"It is my greatest fortune to put a face for your name, Lady Grey..." He said and took her hand to place a soft kiss on her knuckle. Everything and everyone around her was disappearing, and she wanted to fall into his dark orbs and never rise back. It felt so familiar... like she had known him for a long time. And the fire which spread through his thumb which was rubbing her knuckles gave a comfort to lay down all the burden.

_What is happening to me? Think straight, Allara... Don't be that same stupid girl..._

She instantly pulled back her hand and glowered at him. "You were supposed to remain secret... That is the point of being a secret comrade. How the fuck did you get to know my identity?"

"Ah... So crass, my lady." He squeezed his eyes and crossed his hand to his heart for getting wounded by her words. "I would have thought you will welcome me with an open arm." 

She bit her lip not to let her cheeks get flushed.

"Holy fuck!!!" The boy next to them grinned, and even her secret comrade turned away in embarrassment, realizing what he said.

"Do you know them both, sister?" Benjen questioned, and she wanted to bury her head into sand instead of explaining about her stupid endeavor to her little brother.

" _I_... _They_... Yes, brother, I know this man..." She blinked a few times before staring at them both. "What are your names? Real names?"

"I am Richard, my lady and this is... Ser Duncan." 

Her wolf was snarling and snapping, staring at something behind. Just when she turned to her side, the knight locked his arm around hers and pulled her back. It was not early enough, when an axe swung by her stomach and cut open her side a little. With a furious face, he swung his sword through her side and killed a wildling whose axe kissed her stomach.

There were five men in rugged clothes with axes in hand, screaming and lunging at them. She heard the sound of swords drawn from the scabbard, before she fell on her knees holding to her side, where the blood started oozing out.

She saw even Benjen fighting against a wildling boy, and she wanted to slip beneath the wolf's skin, until she found her brother plunging his sword inside that fat boy's guts. 

"Allara..." The knight called, holding her in his arms, which had been splattered with blood. She tried so hard to not slip away into her wolf. It felt the right thing to do, but she blinked away the tears, and tore the side of her dress to see the damage. "Its fine... You are fine. It is a small wound. Look at me, Allara..." He patted her cheeks and she could see he was more frantic than herself. "You will be fine... Let me take you to your castle."

"Castle? No... My father will hang me for all my crimes. And both my brothers are not there to stop it... It is not deep, and I can manage. I just need to find a needle to stitch this wound." She said more to herself, and searched for Benjen, whose eyes were resting on the dead boy he had just killed. She tried to raise on her foot, and before failing helplessly, the knight in question lifted her in his arms, carrying her to his black warhorse.

The rest of the ride was blank... and she felt all that happened was just a dream, and when she woke up, it would all fade away. But, with a stinging pain to her side, when she flicked her lashes, she found a pair of black orbs staring at her.

"So, Ser Duncan... Have you come all the way from Oldtown to rescue me from wildlings?" She tried to tease, and he shook his head with a grin and knelt by her side.

"Are you the fair maid waiting to be rescued by a knight, my lady?"

They both smiled and she couldn't stop thinking if he would be her hedge-knight, but when the chamber looked so unfamiliar, she jumped to her feet and covered her exposed tummy with her bare hands, before observing her gallant knight's eyes pierce on her bare navel. Her breeches remained intact and her dress was pushed above till her upper stomach. But without a maester in an inn...

"Tell me, you didn't stitch my wound."

"I remember you asking me not to send you to your castle." He said as a matter-of-factly. "Someone has to stitch that up. And I seemed to have done a good work. If you jump like that, I don't think it will hold well."

She was abashed to know he felt nothing for touching her. 

_What am I thinking? Why should he feel something? Just leave from here, Allara. Just leave..._

He offered a thick cloak to cover her modesty, before tracing her stitch on the side of her navel with a pure sense of examination. 

"This is my perfect art. I was never good at doing this." He said in excitement and even with all the pain, she could feel her heart beat against her rib cages, feeling his warmth spreading from his long fingers by her navel. She lowered the wound up dress from her chest and when it fell below, he instantly pulled back his hand in panic. "That was improper. I am so sorry. I was just..."

She didn't know how to respond or should she even respond, but the prospect of being close with him was drawing her like a moth to fire and she knew in her heart something was wrong with all of this. Nothing came to her that easily. She needed more answers from him, but before she could question, Benjen barged in the door with his blood matted shirt and messy hair.

"Aly..." He hugged her tight around her waist. "I was so scared... I am sorry. I don't know how it happened... I just.." He sobbed like a frightened child and she listened to everything he had to tell. Once she calmed him, she pulled back the cloak on her head to leave, until the knight held her hand.

"Take care..." He whispered.

"We should meet, another time." She said, and he nodded with a sad smile. She hadn't seen such heavy eyes on anyone before.


	12. Trade Of Secrets

Sitting on the rock beneath the old oak tree, Rhaegar ran his fingers through his newly dyed shoulder length hair, as he waited for the odd-eyed beauty to arrive. He almost regretted for masking his silver-gold mane, with coal black, which apparently should have been the reason why the she-wolf didn't much prefer to fawn over him. Rhaegar's lips twitched and formed a curve when he understood this was the first time he even contemplated about his looks ever since birth.

He fell into his web of thoughts again, as he had done all over his lifetime. The more important ones, which didn't concern the wolf-maid. First that reached his head was the threat of the dead men, then the loyalty of Mance and finally his royal-sire.

_"You brood too much, Ser."_

Her voice sweet as summer wine made Rhaegar smile, and he lifted his head to find her in a deep blue woollen gown that clung to her shapely waist, which was swaying in a cadence for each step she took.

"You have to blame it all on these cold lands, my lady." Rhaegar said with his bright black eyes shining, which was also indeed the result of poor sunlight in the cold lands. That made no difference to him — his purple orbs deserved to be shunned before her mesmerizing mismatched eyes. She elegantly sat on the rock opposite to him, and Rhaegar was quite taken back of her composure which didn't match with how he found her in the woods, with a longbow in her hand and curse words on her lips.

"I agree. The North and cold doesn't set well on strange, _untrustworthy_ men. The Old Gods rule these lands and they decide if they must trust a man or not." She said and wove her hands on her lap while her eyes were constantly evaluating his reaction to each word she uttered.

With the letters they shared, he had thought Allara to be clever, bookish and lovely. And with his first meet, his jaw dropped to find such a blessed crowning beauty that Gods themselves created to make her stand out with cross hair and cross eyes, that would want any man to glance at her twice. But this was not what he expected from a girl of six and ten. _To be called on his face that he was untrustworthy._

No one evaluated him or judged him or questioned him. He had this natural charm to make easy friends who would even give their lives to do his bidding. He would win over any reasonable person to his cause. If strength was what required, he would show them his prowess. If grace was what required, he would exhibit the needed decorum. But here he was, unable to give any answer, while her left grey eye was cold as the North itself.

"One would think you have lost your tongue, Ser Duncan. Perhaps, you speak well only through missives, I assume." She mocked with her dark blue eyes dancing in a polite tease. "As we are on the topic of missives, I wonder where you stole King Jaehaerys's quill and goat skin, considering you are no Maester. Or should I ask if all the gifts you gave me were not real?"

Rhaegar struggled to give any answer at all. He spoke with the Maester Walys the next day, when Allara left from the inn, advising him to comply with his web of lies. And the Maester warned him to be careful, saying the girl was smart and would catch his lies easily. Perhaps it was those warnings that made him to be alert with her or that haunting grey eye...

"I never said I was a Maester, my lady. Should I take responsibilities of all your assumptions?" He retorted, and her shoulders moved back of hearing the accusation. "And the Old King's properties were gifts that was given to my house, which inturn I gave to you..."

_"Which house?"_

She was sharp, and she was on to the point. "Not any high-born house, my lady. My grandfather worked as a smith in one of the castle in Stormlands, which is how we got the present."

"Which castle? And who knighted you?"

Rhaegar wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword tight, gaining comfort in his posture to look casual and normal. "My grandfather worked in Summerhall, during King Aegon's rule. And I served as a squire to Ser Harbert, castellan of the Storm's End, who knighted me at the tourney in Storm's End."

These were blatant lies and although the names and the tourneys and the knighting were true, after his successful tilt against Simon Toyne of the Kingswood Brotherhood, rest all were cooked up. But the odd-eyed beauty had no source other than to confirm it with the Maester, who would say exactly what Rhaegar asked him to. He could see her relaxing her shoulders and a small wave of trust crept into her head, which reflected on her smoothened creased brows and Rhaegar felt like an arse for lying to her.

"Very well, Ser. I must apologize for my cold words. But I find it so difficult to trust your words." She said offering him a smile. A smile that was melting his cold heart.

"And why would that be, my lady?"

"You did help fighting against the wildlings and actually saved me, which I am thankful for. But you have the look of an entitled arse about your face that makes it so difficult for me to believe that you are not a highborn lord."

Rhaegar couldn't stop the grin. "Entitled arse?" He asked with clenched teeth. She jumped down from the rock, making a pout mouth in a teasing way, while her fingers fiddled with the long braid that fell below her waist. "You are the first one to call me that..." He stated and in response she walked away from him while he did not miss catching her swaying behind.

"Are we going to ever bringthe topic of why you actually came to North? I am sure it is not for taking the Black."

"I thought you needed my help." He said staying two feet behind her, as they walked down the cliff where she supposedly often bought her direwolf for a walk. A fine place with literally no human intervention for them to worry. "You literally begged me to do some dark magic on you to get rid of the dreams."

She stopped on her tracks at the mere mention of dreams and Rhaegar instantly regretted of asking it. But curiosity piqued his interest to know how she would react. He learned it was Allara in the dreams — her eyes and the direwolf was the proof, but she didn't know it was Rhaegar in her dreams. Turning around with nervous hands, she looked everywhere except his face and became restless.

"I shared all those, only because I believed you will remain secret. And-"

"And you asked me to help you with those dragon dreams." He pressed staring at her plump red lips that she started chewing in fear or shame.

"How will you do that? I thought you were a Maester who knows dark magic. But you are just a knight... Do you even believe in what I am saying or are you mocking me in your head?" Her furious voice might have troubled him once, but now he was even more eager.

"In the chill cold lands, when you freeze to death and wish for a flick of fire by your hearth, dragons dance in front of your eyes and pale monsters try to kill you. Isn't this your dream?" Rhaegar said with a steely voice.

Her mouth slightly opened and all her playfulness vanished into thin cold air, replaced with dreadness.

"What magic are you using? How... How come you know... Wait... Do you know everything that happens in my dream? Do you know-" She paused, her cheeks getting flushed in shame.

Rhaegar should have expected this, and even he became awkwardly uncomfortable. In fact, it should be him who should get ashamed of those wild dreams, for he chased her and fucked her any time possible. But those were just dreams... or thoughts... more like his fantasies, Wasn't it? He was a married man, and she would soon marry another lord. 

"I felt it. I have been feeling it for a few years." He confronted without revealing much, but her eyes were tearing up in both embarrassment and fear. "Allara, I know what you go through is not easy and I know you are having a difficult time to understand it. If you could open up to me, I can help you."

Without giving an answer, she ran towards her horse, untying its reins in panic. Rhaegar felt like a moron for revealing it so soon, before even earning her trust. She was a lady, after all, and to reveal such events which were forced on her by him should have been insulting and traumatic for her.

Allara gave a whistle and scanned around, waiting for her direwolf to arrive, with her plump red lips forming a beautiful pout that made his crotch bulge and he badly wanted to run far away from her. Either it was the empty ground or the cold or just the mere presence of her or the distance from his home, he couldn't conclude which, but he knew it was not right for him to stand close to her alone.

"Let me help you." He said going to closer to her, but she gave an icy glare that made him stop on his tracks. 

"You want to help me? Really? So, tell me how you know all the details of my dream. Is that why you offered the Maester to help me?" She closed in the distance between them, and they were standing with only inches apart from each other. All that remained between them were tension and few inches, both which he wanted to cover even while the entirety of his head was pleading with him to do otherwise. 

What he didn't expect was to find her fingers roaming on his chest and fiddling with the laces of his doublet. He had to swallow so hard, unable to believe she was filling the air between them.

"Did you use a glass candle to send me those dreams? I have learnt in one book that it is possible for a sorcerer to do it." Her hands went up to his collar, clutching it tight in her grasp, and she pulled him down to meet her deep, mischievous eyes. "Tell me, Ser. Did you use a glass candle to send visions on me?"

The bulged crotch only got painfully hard, and he flexed his fingers tightly, till his knuckles went white, unable to control the urge to touch her beautiful curves. The Gods truly created her to test every man's worth. If left for a few minutes, he knew he would prove how worthless he was, in spite of never getting indulged in such salacious things before.

Holding her pale hand, which was smoother than any silk he had touched, Rhaegar dragged it down, prying it away from his collar with a twitch gracing his lips. "I used glass candles to find your dreams but not to create one." Rhaegar reminded himself to appreciate Allara for giving him an easy way to lie. "The return of dragons are written in stone and I wanted to search for the source which eventually guided me towards you. Now, my lady, will you tell me all about your dreams?"

Her cold gaze was replaced with softened eyes, and her trust was growing even higher than before. Her cheeks were turning red, and she saw anywhere but his eyes. _Had he seen any maid blush beautifully like her?_ With the sun turning red in the sky, amidst the snow-filled grasses, standing beneath an old oak tree, he knew he wouldn't find a perfect moment like this with any woman in the whole Seven Kingdoms. All his ethics, honor, morals melted and became insignificant before his cross-eyed maid.

His fingers pulled the braided long hair that ran past her waist and his other hand held her slender waist, and his hands twitched to tease every inch of her body.

"I have more than just dreams." She said, her mismatching eyes locking his and her hand crawling towards his shoulder while her fingers made soothing circles on hardened arm. "You are right when you said the dragons are returning. I found..." She said so lightly, leaning towards his ear. "a clutch of eggs."

No... That could not be true. There was no way dragon eggs could be found in North. As a child, he climbed all rocks, all lairs and all caves in Dragonstone, to search for the eggs or even its shells. Even when Summerhall was burnt to the crisp, it didn't stop him from excavating the underground where the eggs were kept to be burned along with wildfire, which only ended up in becoming ashes. Not even the whole Seven Kingdoms possessed. Not even his own dragon family held a single egg. How could this girl possess a clutch of them?

Allara gave a smile and when she tried to part from him, Rhaegar protectively and possessively wounded his hand around her waist, and dragged her to his chest. "How?" He asked, the darkness in his voice growing intense. "How did you get them? How many?" He almost growled feeling her firm, round, handful breasts getting crushed on his chest. And all the girl did was to smirk.

A fucking smirk was all she gave in response. 

"There, there... Are we trying to choose the path of intimidation to earn information?" She asked, but there was no resistance to move away from her end. Only teasing eyes playfully making fun of his eagerness. "Why should I tell you everything, when I won't get anything in return, Ser?"

"What do you want, Allara? Tell me..." He asked, and his hands crawled down to her behind, to feel the girth of her perfect round arse in his palms. She jumped instantly, and when she glowered at him, he gave a playful smirk just like hers.

She parted away, folding her arms across her chest, throwing mixed reactions, bringing him down to shame. 

_What is there in this girl that makes me act like a stupid boy of six and ten and not a crown Prince who should focus on learning to rule?_

"I am in need of so many things, Ser. You can't even contemplate to know of all those. But, I don't think you will serve me any good. To begin with, my father wants me gone from the castle in a few moons time. And I am searching for a good hedge knight who will be able to love me." She paused, moving away from him with a long sigh and deep anguish were etching her shining face.

"Don't presume I didn't consider you. But you don't have a house name and you are a common born, which is a strict no from my father. Also, as selfish I am going to sound, I really want to go into a well-settled family. See, I have lived almost all my life in my father's court, acting as a cup-bearer and steward, or whatever name you southerners give to that position. Those were the only times I felt my life was thriving and had meaning to it." She ended and turned towards him with bright eyes full of life. "What is the thing that makes you thrive? What is that one thing which makes your blood circulate in passion?"

Rhaegar was dumbstruck with that question. Did he ever feel passionate on anything? Sure, he loved books and songs, but that was his way to escape the tragedy of the truth of his birth. It was never for something to search in passion. It was just an escape system to vent out his anger.

"Tell me what you have to offer. Then I will consider telling more, Ser." She said and climbed on her horse, trotting it faster towards the direction of the castle, while her direwolf ran next to her.

_Why didn't my father find this girl to be my wife?_

* * *

"Ser..." Richard called, entering his room in the inn. "I want an opinion from you. Do you think I have dressed well?..." Richard tugged his doublet, while adjusting the sword by his hips.

"Everything seems to be in place, Richard." Rhaegar answered and walked down the stairs to the hall of the inn where breakfast was getting served. "What are you excited about?"

"That girl... Allara Stark... She was lovely. Isn't she? A bit of foul-mouthed to be a lady. But I suppose that adds even more beauty to her. I was thinking..."

"Don't think." Rhaegar instantly snapped and found a good corner where fewer men were present.

"Why not? I earned my spurs from you, Ser. My one big dream came true and now... I can ask the girl..." Rhaegar stopped on his tracks grinding his teeth unable to hear another word from the boy. "My house sigil is filled with skulls and kisses. I can even be called a Knight of Kisses..."

Rhaegar glared at his recently knighted squire, with pursed lips and clenched fist that was throbbing to be shoved into his mouth, and finally Richard made a notice of it, with slightly parted lips.

"Perhaps not, then..." His new knight admitted silently, understanding Rhaegar's anger, and walked to the inn-owner to order fine hot food.

They silently broke their fast until a middle-aged man with graying hairs took a chair opposite to them. For a moment, in the self indulgence of his next move, he forgot to notice the man's presence, but when the sound of steel clanking together was heard, he sighed a relief.

"Maester Walys!" Rhaegar addressed.

"What folly is this, Ser?" The Maester warily looked all around the inn where there were a fine set of eyes on the southern soldiers, who lavishly spent coins for food and stay. "You keep adding more and more lies to her. You should have atleast told me about your arrival. Now, you lied to the girl that you are a hedge knight who squired to Ser Harbert." The Maester spat in a distaste.

Despite the tickling feel of guilt in his heart, Rhaegar wanted to know more of what happened. "What did she ask you?"

_"Ask me?"_ The man scoffed in annoyance. "She drilled me with loads of questions. Only because she trusts me, she believed everything I said." The old man murmured in anger, and Rhaegar really felt bad for him. "There are worser winds here and you shouldn't have come... atleast not at this time." He warned.

"So the missives we got in King's Landing are from the lady?" Richard peeped into the conversation with a newfound knowledge, and the Maester became wary.

"He is our man... You can trust him, Maester." Rhaegar assured. "What are the worser winds?"

The Maester struggled a while before leaning in. "Lord Stark officially betrothed his daughter to Robert Baratheon."

Rhaegar was not understanding. Didn't Allara speak about marrying a hedge knight the previous day? Had the wind turned already? And why was this news hurting his heart?

"Fine..." He answered, not interested in hearing anymore words.

"Fine?" The Maester growled. "The plan was to unite few houses to gain our favour. Not to make them stronger than our allies. And the man is plotting big."

Rhaegar tried so hard to indulge enquiring about more, but at that moment, he just wanted to be left alone. It had been a long journey for him and none of the news he heard from beyond the wall, or before the wall was giving peace to his heart.

"If to be said frankly, Lord Stark has bigger ambition. There is no hope that your call for council will work in your favour." The Maester informed. It came as no shock to Rhaegar. He had expected this. "What I don't understand, is his desperation in making his second daughter to be betrothed to Robert. That one cannot even stand in a place for more than five minutes. Something so strange that I still didn't discover in that man's closet."

Rhaegar's face bloomed, and he struggled to hide his joy. "So, Allara is not betrothed." He reconfirmed it again till the Maester nodded. "How can I meet her again?"

"She asked me the same. The wolfswood is not as safe as you presume. Apart from the danger of having wildlings in the woods, Lord Stark has appointed a few of his guards to go for a patrol at random times. But, Ser..." The Maester raised a warning tone. "She carries her own burden and pain. If you give hope to her and take it all back, she will break. I know I promised to serve you, but just..." The man sitting before Rhaegar measured his face, the same everyone measured and compared with his own sire, before telling, "She deserves better."

Rhaegar's face fell and all his eagerness got crushed like a dry flower. The Maester cared for the girl and who wouldn't. Allara could sway any man to her side.

"Measter, I need one more assistance from you. Help me join as a hedge knight under Lord Stark's service."

"That is a very dangerous game, Ser. Not just my head, your head also will not prevail if he finds the truth of your identity. I don't see your father coming with an army to attack the North."

"I am so close in learning the truth. All I want is to spend sometime with Allara. Help me get closer to her, then we can all leave home, together." Rhaegar urged, visibly sensing the discomfort in the Maester's face.

"Let me see what I can do. Ser Rodrik Cassel will never let you both in. But with your squire's name..."

"I am a knight now." Richard bristled. "Besides, if you use my name directly, then everyone will learn of Ser's identity. By now, everyone in the whole Seven Kingdoms must know me."

"No, North is different and distant. As long as Eddard Stark doesn't come to learn of your name, you will be hidden and safe. The boy left for the Vale not a few days back. Come and meet me, in the castle. I will fill in a position for you both." 

Once the Maester left from the inn, Rhaegar tapped his fingers on the table, worrying about the consequence that the Maester would meet if even slightest thing went wrong. Guards and knights could be easily cheated, for they wouldn't care much far up here about hedge-knights. But even if one of the members of House Stark learns Rhaegar's face and name, then his plans and life both would be doomed.

"The girl is worth it, Ser." Richard answered with a glee on his face and Rhaegar had the curtsey to feel ashamed. The boy was supposed to learn traits from Rhaegar, and when his wife's face flashed before Rhaegar's eyes, he instantly regretted for acting like this. "I don't think the Princess Elia will worry." Rhaegar turned his head slowly, to face Richard. "Well... Me and Myles long back learned about Elia and Ashara. You see, we were desperate to woo the purple Dayne and sometimes, we kept stalking and once..."

"Don't..." Rhaegar warned in anger of learning that his squire knew the secrets of his family and more towards the women who were careless enough for the whole castle to find their secret. "How many do you think learned of this?"

"None, Ser. Just me and Myles." Richard promised, but Rhaegar dismissed the thought of others figuring out, as long as he himself would stand by them if it came to confrontation. Except the confrontation with his dearest friend, Ser Arthur Dayne...

_When has life become this complex?_


	13. The Lady And Her Knight

His eyes were constantly scanning the courtyard and the porch of the Great Keep that stood right above, as a blow hard as hammer came down to his chest. Blocking it easily with his sword, Rhaegar slid back to take defense and another upward thrust was offered by Martyn Cassel, that he parried quickly. The man was bulky like every other northerner, but putting weight on a sword was not alone enough for winning a fight.

Focusing on to end this farce which had been going on about an hour now, Rhaegar growled before taking advantage on the attack, and gave a right and left cut, which the man in front easily deflected from but with the side cut towards his unguarded leg only resulted in Martyn eating the mud. Chest puffing up and down for both of them, Rhaegar extended his hand to the man lying on the ground.

“Who did you say train you?” Martyn asked, raising up from the mud.

“Ser Harbert from Storm’s End.” Rhaegar deflected his questions by offering a water pouch to drink from and as expected, it worked quite well.

“Water is not the exact drink that I like after a good fight.” The man spat the water to the ground and Rhaegar restlessly searched for his maid one more time, glancing all around the castle. “A mug full of ale in one hand and a woman in another hand. What do you say?” Martyn laughed cheerfully, and Rhaegar had to refuse it politely with a chuckle. If the man’s indiscretion in woman and drinks never existed, there was no way he would have allowed Rhaegar and Richard to enter the castle.

He was not a complete fool, though. There was a need for the Starks to hire men into the castle, and Ser Rodrick Cassel didn’t seem to be as lenient as his brother. “Another time, Martyn. I have been assigned to train those lads with their wood sticks.” He gestured his hand to the direction of the peasant boys and the man grunted a curse before leaving him to his devices.

Joining Richard, who was immersed in his duty, Rhaegar once again skimmed the field before removing his almost torn gloves. Whatever supplies he bought from King’s Landing was turning out to be useless as that wretched city in this cold North. The Wall was a different tale as the black brothers actually offered Rhaegar their own cloak and gloves, which he had to return.

He prayed to the Gods to not get a froze bite considering all his coins were already spent on bribing Martyn Cassel by buying him whores and ales.

“Use your leg, Wallis... and thrust the stick into his chest.” Richard gave the order to the boys and came closer to Rhaegar. “These boys will take a few months to even hold a sword. But you must see their spirit, Ser.”

“They are trained to live in fear of the wildlings and might have learned a trick or two in defense.” Rhaegar answered looking at the young lads of not more than three and ten, but his mind was only thinking about her. He didn’t come to train these boys or Martyn or serve the Starks. It was all to get closer to her. But even after two days, he was having no idea how to locate her in the Ice castle.

“You are searching for Lady Allara. Aren’t you?” Richard grinned, and Rhaegar simply ignored his ignorant squire’s taunts. “She asked me to give you this.” As Richard pulled a black cloth wrapped out from his tunic, Rhaegar’s was struggling to contain the surprise.

“Who did you say give you this?”

“Lady Allara Stark... The strange eyed monster shoved this in my hand and asked me to give it to you, with no courtesy of a lady.” Richard retorted and shoved the present into his hand.

“When?” His eyes wandered all over the surrounding. Did she miss finding him too? “Does she know-“

“Just a few minutes before, Ser, when you were knocking that northern savage to eat mud. She even cursed you for being a brute while giving this to me.”

Richard was also keenly examining the present in hand and Rhaegar was restless in unwrapping that silk cloth. His smile only widened ear to ear, as he tried the brown leather gloves into his fingers that had soft wool weaved inside, which made sure to give warmth as soon as it slid past to his wrist. A howling black wolf with red eyes, similar to DarkWing, was embroidered into the palm of the cloth, which was perfectly fitting his hand.

“Did she give another one that fits my hand?” Richard enquired and opened the black silk cloth. But to his disappointment and Rhaegar’s happiness, nothing was there inside. “I am not going to act as a mediator, anymore for that vile creature.” His squire growled and left from the place, while Rhaegar circled the castle over and over to search for her. She must have been close enough to notice the torn gloves. Wouldn’t she?

His expedition resulted in no good result and he returned to his inn, after having his portion of stew at supper, that was good enough to swell his stomach but left no lasting taste to his tongue. Growing up in royalty, he was accustomed to eating better food. Not that he was going to complain. This was how King Aegon, the fifth of his name, learned humility and he was glad to learn just as him. As he lied down on his straw mattress in the inn, he realized it would be the last night to spend in that small lavishness, considering all his coins were spent. Ignoring the prospect of next day, Rhaegar went into dreamless slumber and woke up to Richard’s voice by the door in the morning.

As they prepared to leave the inn, rumbling noises emerged from Rhaegar’s stomach and he saw Richard greedily peering at the men breaking their fast with hot soup and fresh baked bread. The lunch and supper were served in the castle, and perhaps there was a way to get some bread for the morning too. Hunting was no more an option considering there was a patrol sent out into the woods.

“Milords...” The inn-keeper addressed them. “There is a bundle that came for you from the castle with a letter.” The man dropped the black silk wrapped parcel onto his table and exposed his rotten-teeth at them.

“Thank the Seven... Oh no… Thank the maiden…” Richard excitedly opened the silk taking it to a nearby table while Rhaegar was eager to read the contents of the missive. He was glad that the inn-owner was not educated in reading, and Allara was no fool to send this by herself.

_‘Bring your horses and mule to the stables. Inform Walder, the stable boy, to tend it in my name. Also, stay in the Guards Hall and you will get your breakfast every day.’_

Nothing more was written, and he kept twisting the parchment over and over. No information of when to meet her. Did she not care enough to inform that, or was she planning to surprise him? Richard praised Allara as he took spoonfuls of poached egg and butter baked pork together. Although Rhaegar loved all these small things that she was giving attention to, he was desperate to meet her again. What did she mean by needing something in return for the information of dragon eggs the other day?

Finishing their breakfast, he did as she had bid and took his horses and mule to the giant looking stable boy called Walder and went on about his day. A day turned to be two and sooner it grew to be four, during which time, he received two more tunics from her, black leathered soft cloth with fox furs inside to protect him from the cold, a spiced ale bag, a dornish vintage pouch, and everything came to Rhaegar through Richard. Perhaps he should simply stand with Richard to meet her, for not even once did she grace him with her presence?

“Supper is being served, Ser Duncan. It is time to fill our bellies...” One of his companions on the battlements patted on Rhaegar’s shoulder, asking him to join in the little merriment.

“Those wildling buggers are not goin’ to come any sooner. Join us Ser...” Martyn Cassel said. Nodding vaguely, Rhaegar got down to reach the Guards Hall as a new set of guards started replacing them on the battlements. The ridiculous amount of men in garrison in such a short period shocked him quite a lot.

“Do the wildlings make such a serious threat?” He dared to ask, hiding his royal southern accent as much as possible.

“Aye... Those lots steal our women, raid our homes, and take our children. Vicious bastards, all of ‘em. But they ain’t the real threat. Its the kraken in the seas that I worry about. My brother thinks the same.”

“The Iron borns?”

Martyn laughed. “Aye... Those shameless cunts.”

Rhaegar gathered a lot about Quellon Greyjoy and the ancient Greyjoys during his time in King’s Landing. There were queer and blood boiling atrocities done in the name of pillaging, raping and reaving by those sea creatures, which were well known to even a child in the Seven Kingdoms. But Lord Quellon was a different man — a man of peace and what reasons would the Starks have to fight against them.

“Will my lord plan to raid to the Iron lands with these men?”

Martyn gave a strange stare at Rhaegar, and he realized how he crossed a line there by not acting the part of a hedge knight. No knight asks the motives of his commander. He should simply follow.

“You southerners think we are numbskull savages. Don’t you?” The man scoffed. “No, Ser. We are merely preparing for the worst. There are disturbing news about one of the Quellon sons, having prepared a fleet of his own during his time in exile. And do you know what every evil ironborn do when they have their own army?” Rhaegar remained calm, and wondered, which of Quellon’s sons was dispelled. How could he not know this? “They take their hunting pleasure on our northern shores. And as you see, the Mad King keeps his ass high on the throne with no worry for his own people and it falls in our hands to protect our people, all alone.”

Rhaegar chose to remain silent instead of giving a response. Of course his father had been nothing but a burden to the throne, and the blades were already rejecting him by piercing him on all sides. Now, when he heard Tywin had withdrawn his position as hand, the situation would get even more delirious. But that gave no explanation to this collective assembling of peasant boys and men, who were getting trained vigorously, out of the blue. He decided to not let out his opinions out in the air and get more attraction of his presence.

Already there were many men who came to speak with him, just to know what it meant to be a knight and when they learned the duties of a knight, they laughed on his face, saying that any man would do and it made no difference. He had a hard time adjusting in this place and the worries of court had gave nightmares to him. The only reason he fested into the castle was to learn about Allara, who was testing his patience even more for the last five days. His desperation was crossing mountains.

Just as he crossed the stables, Richard came out with a grin and a monstrously huge present in his hand.

“What is it now this time? Did you even tell her to meet me?” He almost groaned lifting the heavy woolen cloak, but he was stunned to see a magnificent fox fur embedded into the collar of the cloak. It would be so good to sleep in it, walk in it and wrap himself in it. The whole black cloak was filled with furs. Richard folded his arms, turning around to show his cloak which was small, fitting his stature, but what Rhaegar received seemed to be much more exquisitive.

“I did tell her to meet you. But she seems to be more into me, Ser.” The boy grinned, and Rhaegar gave a clout to his head. “If you think I am lying, then answer me this. To whom is she meeting to give all the presents? From whom is she running away? Come to think of it, I guess this is the right time for you to give up the girl to me.” Rhaegar knocked his squire’s small head once more, before venturing into the stable to check on his horse and change the dirty tunic that he had worn since the morning.

_Why will she not meet me?_

Ignoring the stab in his heart, when Rhaegar ventured into the stall where his horse was kept, he groaned loud like an animal to see his horse have a fresh leather saddle, printed with a black wolf of red eyes. She even seemed to have bathed his war horse, and filled his belly, eventhough he warned the stable boy to not come anywhere near his beast as it was trained to only obey hi,. But she seemed to have calmed even his horse.

Angrily he entered the stall and removed his garments on top, becoming bare chested. When he picked his new tunic, his horse neighed. And when he lifted his eyes, she was standing with an awkward smile of catching him changing his dress.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to see you like this. I came to offer your horse an apple.” Her hand rose in the air to show the shiny green apple and when she turned to run away, Rhaegar lost his mind.

Seeing her up close, all in flesh after all those attempts to find her, a feast for his eyes, he wanted to grab her and keep her close to his chest. Without thinking further, he seized her waist making all those apples to slip by one after another that was tied in a black silk around her waist and pushed her against the wall nearby, his own body acting as a barrier for her to move, while both of his hands lied on either side of her body. She kept herself glued to the wall, with mere inches of distance lying between them, and his whole head was screaming to cover the distance and embrace his lady.

Her open hair was tangled and messed up from the ride. And she seemed to have climbed an apple tree to pluck all the fruits for horses. The way her chest heaved, the way her face flushed, all from the effort of a ride made his mind go excited that he badly wanted to hold her close in his arms.

“Are you even this cruel to make a man go mad, my lady? What have I done to you that you slip from me at every turn?” He asked, his finger lifting her chin. When the cold air brushed his bare skin, his body quivered and her cheeks turned even more red seeing him with only half of his clothes. She beamed, shaking her head and used her index finger to feel his carved muscle dragging it all the way from chest to his abdomen, slowly heating up his skin in the process.

“I gave you so many clothes to protect yourself from cold, Ser. But you seem to prefer only your skin.” She teased, tugging her lower lip into her teeth.

He blamed it all on the cold. He blamed it on her seductive smile that spread on those cursed plump lips. He blamed it on her warm finger when he thrashed on her body in search of more warmth. Her raising breasts struggled to breathe in his tight hug, and his hands latched on her majestic behind. But unlike before, she gave a moan in response when he felt her shaped ass in his palms. His reasoning and senses vanished into thin air, when her moans sang a tune of a song that the whole world had no rights to hear. It belonged only to Rhaegar.

And when her arms wrapped around his chest, he growled like an animal before pulling a handful of her hair to see her radiant, flushed face. Her blue eye was so soft, and he kissed her cross eyes first, one after another. Then her reddened cheeks. When his mouth trailed to her lips, her eyes were shut close, and he could feel her heart flutter as her chest heaved, eagerly expecting for this moment with him.

Tugging her hair between his fingers, he caught her lower lip for a hungry kiss at first. She tasted of honey from flowers, making his mind turn numb for a moment, as he relished in her own earthly scent and flowery taste. And when she parted her mouth, her anticipation explicit in the little sounds she made, he played against her hot scorched tongue with his cold ones. Her hands on his shoulder moved above to twirl his hair while his own hands went to rest it on her waist, without breaking that passionate kiss which he only dwelled deeper and deeper till his heart’s content, which seemed to be never ending.

When they parted to take a breath, he looked into her eyes that seemed to turn more scared and feared as every second grew longer between them. Withdrawing her hand from his body, she instantly slid past him and her hands started shaking in panic or embarrassment. Did he hurt her? He was not exactly gentle like he was with Elia. _Elia…_

Rushing inside the stall he put on all his clothes and when he warily came out anticipating her absence, she surprised him by standing in the same place. The silence between them was dreading his heart, while her bruised lips made him worry for her.

“Did I hurt you, Allara?” Rhaegar asked. When she shook her head, refusing, the pit of his stomach flipped in fear of what he had done to her. “Are you scared of me?” He asked calmly, and she gave a long sigh, shaking her head.

“I am not scared of you, Ser. Had I been… then I wouldn’t have come anywhere close to you.”

A part of him relaxed in the prospect of not harming his lady while another part of him badly wanted to leave from there. He didn’t realize there was so much of buried desires for her until he met her, which exploded with the way she made him roam for her. But what he did was wrong from any perspective. His mission was not to lead her into pain, but to get the truth of the dreams.

“You seem to be worried. Gods… Why is your hands shaking? Are you fine?” He tried to get closer seeing the sweats that was drenching her skin but she pulled her hand back to her behind.

“I think I am fine and… I will leave.” She stated, her voice soft and sad.

“Allara… Speak with me. Don’t cut me off like that. I went mad searching for you, all the five days. Tell me what you feel and why you are avoiding me.”

“Let me see, Ser. Out of nowhere, a man comes to rescue me from wildlings, like a knight in songs. Just as my father asks me to find a hedge knight, he proclaims himself to be a hedge knight. Oh, I forgot. He even knows I have dragon dreams because he was fucking seeing it too... And now that I said I have a clutch of dragon eggs, he ventured into my own home.” She seethed, her blue eye turning black and her nose flaring in red. “Now, you tell me, if I should feel worried of kissing him or not, in the middle of the stables.”

“I am sorry, my lady.” He apologized, taking a few steps back. Why couldn’t he see this way? And his teeth clenched, unable to justify his actions even when her eyes was waiting eagerly for him to give her hope. How would he be in his right mind, give her hope? Picking the fallen apples and giving it back to her, he turned back with guilt of doing a sin. “You will find no more disturbances from me, my lady. I will leave on the morrow.”

His ego, his conscience, his mind, everything was begging him to leave from this place, anyway. There would be chaos in the city of King’s Landing, and if his father ever learned the truth of his own adventure, he would make sure to punish Rhaegar by harming the ones he loved. Rhaegar always knew what she wanted in return. A chivalrous hedge-knight to marry. But Rhaegar was neither a hedge-knight nor a chivalrous man.

* * *

Rolling on the sheets from one edge to another, Allara sat up on the bed frustratingly, unable to believe slumber didn’t visit her chamber even at the hour of ghost. Even her frightening dreams seemed to have vanished. The troubling dreams that never once stopped harassing her had no evidence of its existence ever since Lord Black happened to visit her. And how could she not get scared of all this change? What was he expecting from her after that unexpected kiss?

Lord Black was clearly offended when she spoke harshly, but it was quite scary to know a man chase her by even risking to stay right under her father’s nose. She worried that he thought her to be some tavern wench who would warm his bed, just because she played with him on the last meeting. And the kiss… What should she make out of it? Perhaps she was the desperate one, unable to wait till confirming his intention.

But what if all these were ploys to take those dragon eggs?

Putting on her gown, Allara decided to push away the thoughts of that handsome mystery knight, whose behaviours bought uncountable suspicions in her head and unexplainable pleasure to her heart. She walked towards the Godswoods, to check on those five dragon eggs. There was no way of hiding them in her chamber, without any of her siblings noticing it. And she was even more scared now that he had already come inside the castle. Would his glass candle tell where to find the eggs too? Was it the reason he abruptly left her after giving a fucking kiss? That thought only started hurting her heart, and she touched her lips to feel that moment once again, which gave more bliss than pain.

For many centuries, the eggs went undetected by anyone in the castle, so she thought it would be wise to let it stay in the same place. Moreover, she was scared of lifting them and breaking its shell. Then it would be of no use.

 _As though it would be of any use, now._ The last dragon hatchling died during the rule of King Aegon, the third of his name, and ever since not even one hatchling came out. She learned about the dragon Kings and their madness only recently. These five eggs in Godswood must have been fossilized for Gods know how long and she was sure, they were a beauty to be stored and preserved but no dragons were coming any sooner.

And if they came, the Mad King would lay claim on those creatures.

Just as she came near the kennels, two of the household guards offered a whisper of salute and nodded their head, moving past her, for taking a patrol around the battlements. Her father seemed to be lately disturbed of the wildlings’ attack because of which the garrison was tightened in the castle. As though the wildlings were capable of taking Winterfell. They wouldn’t be even able to cross the Wall.

When she entered into the vicinity of her Gods, Allara felt a change in the air and her first instinct was to run to check on those eggs. But there was more reason to her visit than just checking on the eggs. She wanted to see him and ask him not to leave. How much ever silly it might look, he seemed to be the only answer for all her problems and she liked him. This was the perfect man sent by the Gods themselves, and why would she need to question every single thing. Perhaps it was time to let go of her fear and embrace new things. Letting him go just because she was scared to experience new things was so stupid. Was she ready to marry an old man over a charming, mysterious knight?

Turning around, she plotted in her head to search for him in the Guards Hall where he might be resting but that would be a huge risk considering how many men would be inside. How was she supposed to get past all those men and search for him? As though Gods had heard her pleas, Richard came out of the hall yawning dreamily, probably to take a piss. She went around the hall and walked straight to him, her hands folded in contempt.

“What... the hell... I am sorry. What are-“

“Where is he? Did he already leave?” She threw her questions like bolts, and he stammered with a shaking body and quivering lips for the cold.

“No... He is... here. We are still here, and probably, we might leave on the morrow. The cold takes-“

“Ask him to come meet me near the Godswood. Now!!!” She chastised, unwilling to hear the stupid boy’s ranting, and went back into the dark to hide. It took almost half an hour before she heard her knight clear his throat, standing at a respectable distance from her.

“You wanted to see me.” He stated with the clear intention of making sure it was all her mistake and sure it was.

“Yes. I...” She trailed fidgeting her fingers with the sleeves of her gown. “I wanted to see you.” His face had no kindness that she saw when he pressed his lips against hers, only furrowed brows condescending her immature behaviour and she hated his judging eyes. “Oh... Stop blaming it all on me. There hasn’t been a time when a man never disappointed me. How do you think I can accept it all at once?”

“I haven’t...” He relaxed his shoulder and gave a loud gasp in frustration. “You are mistaking me, Allara. I haven’t come here to give you hopes and as you think I am not a right man. And you were correct to distrust me. Perhaps, my actions were wrong and my thoughts too. But...”

She didn’t want to hear him saying he would leave her and make her miss the last chance. She held his hand in hers and looked into his eyes with fear and sadness dancing in her own. “Please, don’t tell me anything more and don’t leave... I just need time.”

Her pleading must have changed his heart or the way the waves of warmth passing through her body to his cold hand must have changed something that he almost growled before holding her cheeks in his hand. “Don’t trust me... You should not.” He said and his thumb caressed her cheek, so softly like a feather touching her skin and she had to bet that she wouldn’t be able to hear another word he spoke if he wouldn’t move away from her. Breaking the distance, she simply nodded.

“This place is not safe for us to speak or meet. My father will not be happy if he happens to see me with a man at night. Follow me.” She walked around the castle, not interested in dwelling to explore the reason behind his heavy warning words. Reaching close to the North gate and to the direction of the broken tower, where there were almost no men, she stopped. “No one comes here. Some lightening struck here after which it was never repaired.”

“Don’t tell me you keep the dragon eggs here.” He teased with a smile, hugging himself tighter for the cold. He had a slender physique and strong shoulders. She had seen his muscular chest in the dark and felt its mesmerizing build through her fingers. His arms were hard from training and she couldn’t stop thinking of the feel of his strong arms around her waist once again.

“Do you really want the dragon eggs?” She enquired climbing the stairs, and he followed too without an answer. “Are you not going to answer me now?”

“You are asking me a tricky question, my lady. If I tell yes, then you will question if I came all the way only for the eggs... And if I tell no, then you will call me a liar. I am contemplating on which answer to settle.”

Her grin only became wider, and they reached the top of the tower. “I don’t have to keep dragon eggs here. This place will remain only for us till you leave. And you can tell the truth, Ser.” She said and dusted off the floor to take a seat. When she patted the floor next to her, he leaned his head on the stone wall and she instantly grabbed his hand, woving her fingers into his. “If truth is so hard to be admitted, then don’t. I like to live in lie.”

“You like to live in lies?”

“It makes my life easier.” She decided not to let him indulge in her pain by explaining her sad stories. “Did you enjoy the North? I know it's not as exciting as your southern lands, but...”

“Why don’t you take me to the places you love?” His smile was so small but she accepted and laid her head on his shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed by tiredness.

“Don’t leave, Ser...” She whispered before feeling his arms around her shoulder and closing her lids.

“Allara…” A moment later he whispered, clenching her fingers, and she simply hummed. “You should know the truth and you deserve to know. _I am a married man._ ”


End file.
